Pancakes
by TypewriterClicks
Summary: But it was Robin. And things with Robin have always been bittersweet.
1. Chapter 1: Consolation Beers

Regina had seen him in their apartment a few times. Leaving. Half naked. Most of those times. She knew her roommate was...a bit more promiscuous than the majority, but that hadn't bothered her until her roommate developed an interest for the British transfer. What with his devilishly blue eyes and his panty ripping accent, he should've appealed to her as well. He appealed to everyone. But something was off about him, he just seemed too valiant. Too nice to be part of Mary's string of one-night stands. He looked like the kind of guy that would make pancakes the morning after cheap motel sex. And he had. Delicious pancakes that Mary didn't even touch.

Sometimes they'd be blueberry, or they'd be plain with fresh fruit an powdered sugar, he'd make delicious Nutella strawberry pancakes that had the both of them-Mary and Regina of course-salivating like children in candy stores with a thousand dollars. And then there were his trademark apple cinnamon variety that had Regina foodgasming on the spot. The smell, oh the smell of them had her stomach begging for just a small itty bitty taste. But they weren't her pancakes to eat, and as delicious as they looked (and as much as she wanted to indulge) she'd always told herself that she would never accept pancakes from a British playboy. And Mary was no good either (when has she ever been good?) always offering Regina the breakfast because she was too afraid of commitment.

 _I don't do commitment. I don't eat commitment pancakes-_ because we all know that pancakes mean commitment- _you can have them if you want,_ she'd said, shoving the plate towards Regina. _They've got apple and cinnamon on them, you're favorite._

But Regina hadn't eaten the pancakes, she'd just nodded and waited for Mary to go to the bathroom so she could throw them away. They smelled too good to be edible (and god did they make her want to pig out and shove them into her face). Just like he looked too edible to be good (the only difference between him and the breakfast was the fact that Regina didn't even want to see his face, much less indulge in him).

It had been almost a week since he'd been "in relations" with Mary, and Regina still didn't know his name, nor did she ever want to. But to make pancakes, there must be a cook. And when Mary had stepped into their small bathroom to take a shower, a half naked British male was pushed out. Only a towel wrapped around haphazardly around his waist. Regina averted her eyes, placing the sticky plate in the sink before leaving through the window near the back. This wasn't the first time she'd tried to run away from one of Mary's toys. Boys. She'd formed a close relationship with the fire escape.

-{}-

"Marian's been sleeping with the British boy," Regina had said to Emma the moment she had taken her seat in the lecture hall. She didn't even bother to take out her materials, she went straight to the issue, "She's been sleeping with him for a week, maybe two. Only him. That's not like Mary."

"Well, I guess Mary might finally commit to a person," Emma hadn't taken her eyes off of the PowerPoint title slide in the front of the room. "Hey maybe you won't have to spend so many nights at my place anymore. She'll probably start going over to his place when they make it an official fuck buddy relationship. Maybe she'll even upgrade his status to boyfriend one day."

"Yeah," Regina had set up her laptop, Microsoft Word open to a blank document and her phone's camera app open to record the lecture. _More like baby daddy_ she wanted to say."But I don't like him. He's weird. Makes the apartment smell like Axe-the manly woodsy scent that no one likes. Marian should've chosen someone less..."

"Attractive? Decent? Kind? He made pancakes, he couldn't be that bad." Emma finally turned to Regina, "Do you even know his name?"

Regina shook her head, not even slightly ashamed of her response. "I don't think my opinion would change. He's no good for Mary, we both know that."

"No, we don't and until we do I'm not messing with it or them," Emma pursed her lips, "Hey we're close to graduating, you won't have to deal with her anymore."

"Yeah but it doesn't mean I can't be worried for her now, I'm her roommate. Her friend. The least I can do is try to keep her away from a person who's gonna impregnate her before she has the time to say condom," Regina said, almost a little too loudly in the quieting room.

"Sure, but maybe he's not that person."

 _But what if he is? What if he is that person,_ she wanted to whine. Protest his existence until he magically up and vanished one day.

Regina shrugged, turning back to the front because the professor walked in.

She didn't remember any of the lecture.

-{}-

There was someone in the apartment. Something was wrong. Mary wasn't coming back until late tonight, she'd called a few minutes before. The welcome mat was slightly crooked, the tops of a boot print pressed into the 'w' and another at the top left edge. A greenish jacket was on the coat hooks, and an umbrella against the wall. The smell of tomatoes and garlic wafting from the kitchen. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything but a salad for lunch. Dry, without any fruit or croutons. She shook her head, food comes later.

"Marian! Did you come home early?" Regina shouted out into the apartment. Her hands already reaching for the steel baseball bat they stashed in the shoe closet. It was cold against her skin, and gave her a feeling of safety immediately.

No reply came.

"Mary?!" She yelled again, but to no avail. The place might as well have been a graveyard. "Who the duck is in this apartment? Show yourselves," there was a break-not one sound echoed. "I'm calling the cops!"

Nothing.

Maybe Mary's "partner" just forgot his stuff in the morning, or maybe he was here all day. That would explain the smell of food-freshly prepared might she add-and only footprints that led in, not out. Her grip on the bat loosened, her fear of an intruder quickly diminishing. She tossed her bag on the sofa, bat still in hand, and headed over to her room. The hallway illuminated by two-dollar tea-light candles from the nearest Walgreens. Two inexpensive scented candles were set at either side of the door that led to Mary's room. Rose petals at the threshold as well.

Maybe Emma was right. It looked like things were getting serious. She suddenly felt bad for not giving this new guy a chance, if he went through all this trouble just for some casual sex...then he couldn't be that big of a trash bag. She decided that the next morning she saw him-waiting for Mary most likely-she'd ask for his name. She might even pick up some idle chat, ask about his major, why he transferred all the way from London.

But not now. She was tired. Taking classes in the morning and working the four to nine shift at the bar did that. Her hands still reeked of beer and she felt like she was covered in a layer of grease. Shower. She needed a shower.

The bat was still in her hand.

She took off her shirt first, the yellow polo with the bar's name-Sherwood's Pub- stitched onto the fabric above her left breast. Then her bra-hanes, the kind you can get at Walmart for ten bucks each (hey she was almost broke, student loans are a pain in the ass). She had bent to set down the bat next to the bathroom door, tugging at her skirt.

"Holy shit."

In an instant the bat was in her hands and Mary's bed buddy was unconscious on the tile. He'd landed face first in the tile, and already Regina could see a slight bump forming on the side of his head where she's hit him. She rushed to pick up her discarded clothes, pulling her skirt back up first. And then her bra, and then her bar shirt. She poked at him with the bat's handle.

"Can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me," she was begging an unconscious man. She lifted one of his limp arms and pulled. Barely moving him a few inches. "C'mon, why are you so heavy? She tried to lift his arm to steady him on her shoulder, but she couldn't even get him on his knees.

She gave up trying to pick him up and instead tried to wake him up. She kicked his ribs gently, it was honestly more like a nudge if anything, and that effort remained fruitless. She kicked harder and he still didn't move. She huffed in frustration, took her leg back as far as she could and kicked him square in the ribs.

"JESUS!"

His arms went to nurse his wound, his face red from anger. Eyes wide.

She offered him her hand. He refused to take it.

"I'm going to need you to cooperate. I think you need to go to the hospital. You might have a really bad concussion."

"No shit, woman. You hit me in the head with a fucking metal bat."

Regina nodded averting her eyes when he stood, "You might want to get some clothes on... for-uh-decency's sake."

He looked down, noticing his almost naked (thank god he was wearing boxers) state. His face grew slightly red before smirking, "Hey, you showed me yours and I showed you mine. Skin for skin."

"I still have a metal bat in my hand, just go put your clothes on. Please."

"Or what?"

"I will hit you in the head with this bat again and I won't bother taking you to the hospital to check if your brain is intact."

-{}-

The emergency room was a solid fifteen minutes away from Regina's place when there was no traffic and no red lights. Getting the man in the car took what seemed like an hour itself and Regina was pretty sure that if she'd given him a concussion, he'd have been getting worse by the second. She really didn't have time to deal with this. She had midterms next week, and she was covering Ruby at Sherwood's Pub all next week too, not to mention the essay that was worth half her grade in English Lit. She hadn't even started that yet.

So, she'd called Emma. Her savior. The slightly more goody two shoes in their friendship.

"I think I may have severely injured Mary's new interest," it started. Regina had turned on the ignition, the engine pathetically revving to life.

"Stop joking, he's a good person Regina."

"No, I hit him in the head with a baseball bat. Metal baseball bat. I think he has a concussion."

"Dammit Regina!"

"I'm sorry, it was unintentional. My honor was on the line!"

"What does that even mean?"

"I accidentally flashed him, it was nothing."

"Nothing? It was...nothing?!"

"Don't yell, I can hear you fine if you speak normally."

"But why did you hit him with a baseball bat?"

"I didn't know he was there, so I got scared. The bat was right next to me so..."

Regina honked at the car in front of her, the old woman was going six miles an hour.

"Just bring the good coffee. The stuff in the hospital is a pathetic excuse for coffee flavored water,"she hung up. Regina turned to the passenger seat.

"Who was that?" He asked, an ugly blue-y purple mark forming near his temple.

"Emma," She said, grimacing herself at the injury she gave him. "I'm sorry for that by the way. I really am. I'll pay for the hospital and everything."

"Thank you," he murmured, "for apologizing and offering to pay, I really appreciate it."

Regina nodded, cutting their conversation to a stop.

-{}-

The chairs in the emergency room were uncomfortable. Of course, she'd already known that. Not from experience, she hadn't been to the emergency room since she was six and she'd fallen off a horse on the day of her first riding lesson. She remembered the cut on her upper lip, the fence had hit her square in the mouth. Two stitches and a lot of blood on her favorite white shirt. Thankfully, her shirt today was red.

The awkward silence between them was unbearable. Robin had been sitting next to her-well there was technically a chair in the middle-waiting for one of the doctors to get to them. The conversation had stopped in the car a long while ago, and they'd run out of thing to apologize for and forgive. His hands were folded in his lap and he'd been avoiding eye contact since she'd given him her insurance information to fill out the patient information forms.

Emma had shown up a half hour later, breaking the awkwardness thankfully, coffee from Starbucks in her hand and a frown on her face. She was still in her work clothes, and her hair in her waitress ponytail. "Jesus Regina, what have you done? Is that him?"

Regina shrugged, her shoulders going up and down, the scar on her upper lip bending as she frowned. "I hit him in the head with a baseball bat. I didn't kill him or anything. And I put my insurance down-well my parents'-still, I'm taking responsibility. And yes that is him."

He'd waved politely when Regina mentioned him, Emma offered him a hasty smile. Emma had taken a seat in the empty one to Regina and shoved a coffee into her palm, her head was shaking. Emma had turned to speak to the man-who Regina still didn't know the name of. "Hi, I'm Emma," Emma gave him her hand and he shook it, mumbling a short, slurred hello back.

A nurse came in holding a clipboard. "Uh...Mr. Locksley? The doctor on call will see you now."

He stood, picked up his jacket, and followed the nurse into the examination room. Regina's gaze followed them until they slipped behind closed doors.

Only then did she take her first sip of coffee. Black and bitter-just how she took it. She lifted the cup in acknowledgement, "Thanks. It's good coffee."

"I got dark roast, no cream no sugar. I'm a waitress the least I could do is remember how you take your coffee," Emma dismissed Regina's thanks as if she was waiting for another thank you for a different reason.

"And also thank you for coming here and taking off work," Regina offered hesitantly. Emma smiled and leaned her head onto Regina's shoulder.

"What else am I here for, besides getting you out of awkward situations like these?"

"Bringing coffee, you're good at that too."

They sat and watched the nurses run around. The medical interns bustling to follow them around-they were still at that stage when the nurses knew more than the interns-to try and find small little injuries to fix. The head nurses interchanging clipboards with patient information, checking if all the others were doing there job right. If Regina hadn't wanted to become a lawyer, she'd have wanted to go to med school. To fix people, to cure people, to just help them and to be known to help them. But she'd seen bad things where she grew up, and she'd seen good people being blamed for them. So now, almost less than a year left until she'd graduate with honors from NYU, she'd decided she'd wanted to be a lawyer. Already started the application process to Yale, Harvard, and Duke for law school. And now, she'd just been waiting. To hear back from them and to call her mom and tell her that her daughter wasn't a failure after all.

But that wouldn't change her mother's mind. Her getting into NYU on an sixty percent scholarship didn't.

"Hey, Regina," Emma nudged her shoulder, breaking Regina's gaze from the people running around to the doctor in front of her. Mr. Locksley, since she didn't know his first name, was there too, his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets.

"Ms. Mills, right?" The doctor asked.

"Yeah, was there a problem? Does my insurance not cover something?" She stood frantically, worried that she might have to work two extra shifts to cover this tab. "Bec-"

"No, I just came to tell you that Mr. Locksley doesn't have a serious brain injury and..." the doctor looked over his charts to make sure he didn't miss anything, "you won't be having to pay for anything."

Regina breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank god._ She gave a short goodbye to the doctor and gathered her things, pulling her keys out of her purse. _Do you need a ride._ she'd asked Emma and Emma had replied _no,_ and then she took off too, hugging Regina and a short wave to Mr. Locksley.

"I guess you're coming home with me," Regina huffed, walking towards the exit while gesturing for him to follow. He fell into step behind her, grinning like a lunatic _Well I normally don't do this on first dates but..._ and she smacked him in the gut with her purse (because c'mon, she practically handed that one to him, and god help her she was disliking him more every word he said).

"Shut up," was all she could say in return and she knew that he was trying his damned hardest to suppress his laughter. He'd bitten his lip and the vein in his forehead was popped. "Go ahead."

And he laughed.

And she thought that he couldn't be that bad if he laughed like that.

-{}-

"Look, I was thinking we could stop by your place so I could pick up my car. So you won't have to drive me to my dorm."

"Alright."

"Regina? It is Regina right?"

"Yes."

"Well Regina, I sincerely thank you for the mark on my head," he said, almost jokingly but Regina knew that it was out of bitterness. He probably loved himself (why shouldn't he, he had the face of a Greek god and a body made of sin and temptation) in fact, he'd was probably so vain that the only reason he was angry about this was because she'd marked his precious face.

"It's not like I ruined your face or anything," she almost spat back, almost. She'd never really been angry for people like him, she'd never thought to waste her time. But he was irking her, he was really pissing her off for some really weird fucking reason.

"Quite the contrary, I've heard that American girls love battle scars," he laughed a little, "I'll just tell them that I got it fighting a man three times my size."

 _Figured he would be unfaithful,_ Regina thought, gritting her teeth and then asking him, "I thought you were sleeping with Mary?"

And then he smiled. A genuine smile that had Regina thinking that he was probably a saint in his past life and that he could do no harm to any soul. His eyes were lighting up, and his dimples looked like they were etched so deep in his cheeks that nothing could escape them. The bloody bastard actually liked her roommate. He liked her roommate to the point of smiling like a love struck fool.

"Marian..." Regina's roommate's name rolled off of his tongue like it belonged there. She assumed it did, because he continued. "I'm sleeping with her, yes. For the last three weeks too, but it's not like we've labeled it or anything. She really doesn't like commitment."

Regina swallowed almost sourly. She hated the idea of Mary dating him. She hated the idea of him period but Emma was right (when is she not though?). He was a good man, and as much as he joked around he really did like Mary, and who was she to tell him that he didn't deserve her. Because he did, and even Mary was acting a little strange lately. So she swallowed sourly once more before saying, "I think she's reconsidering her stance on commitment."

He chuckled, "That's a good joke, no really. It's fantastic. I don't think any man or any woman can change her stance on commitment."

Regina cracked a weak grin, "That's true. But what you don't understand is that you are the longest exclusive relationship she's had. I didn't know that it had been three weeks? I've only seen you around for the last few days."

"No, she and I were in cahoots a couple weeks before that. Mostly just random hookups in the back of janitor's closets and night club bathrooms. I just kind of went with it. It really wasn't until last Sunday, I think, when she brought me to your place. She was piss drunk-"

"I swear if you did anything," Regina cut in, her voice lowered to an almost growl.

"No! No, I would never dream of such a thing. Do you think so low of me?"

"I really don't know what to think."

He nodded solemnly, "That's fair. But tell me, am I really the longest relationship Mary's ever had?"

"Yes. That is until one of her boys gets her pregnant and then I guess she'll have maintained a longer relationship with them. I hope she maintains a longer relationship with them, at least."

"But she's wonderful. She's definitely my favorite American girl."

"Well, that just proves that you are completely out of your mind," Regina said, looking out the side window as she took a left turn. "But Mary is wonderful. I've been her roommate since sophomore year. She's a good person."

They sat in silence, the occasional little bumps from the old car driving into potholes, and the taps of his fingers as they drummed against the dashboard. She kept checking the clock, 9:36. 9:40, 9:42. It wass 9:48 by the time they reached Regina's apartment.

-{}-

She noticed that the kitchen still smells of tomatoes and garlic when she and Mr. Locksley (because she didn't bother asking him for his name in the car when they were talking about him and Mary) entered. She dropped her keys into the little bowl. _Did you cook something in here?_ she asked him, and he replies, _Lasagna._

Oh god help her ovaries.

Pancakes weren't enough were they? No they were not. She wondered what else he could make. Sushi? Thai food? Indian food? The man probably knew how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich a meal worthy of a five star restaurant. And lasagna was her favorite. It reminded her of her grandmother. every time she'd visit her she'd have made lasagna at least twice, and that lasagna meant everything. But there was lasagna sitting on their second-hand dinning table, and she needed to taste just the tiniest bit.

A few minutes later they were both on the couch, paper plates (piled with the food) in hand. He'd brought a bottle of wine (it didn't matter if it was cheap, it was wine-and Regina hadn't had wine since forever because the only alcohol she could afford was Bud Light) so they'd poured it into red solo cups and toasted to late night trips to emergency rooms. They ate in silence at first, the only sounds coming from them was the sound of their chewing. She was the one who spoke first.

"So, why'd you transfer?"

He looked surprised by her question, and then replied, "Because Oxford was too stuffy and boring. Everyone there was looking to be the next Stephen Hawking."

"You came from Oxford?"

He nodded nonchalantly, as if everyone in the world went to Oxford. "Sadly, yes. But I do think that NYU has a certain charm."

"What are you majoring in?"

"Well, right now English Literature. But I want to go to culinary school in France after I graduate."

"You should, this lasagna is amazing. It's a close second to my grandmother's," she remarked, forking another chunk into her mouth, swallowing, and gulping down a few sips of the wine.

"Why second?"

"She had a special ingredient in her's, I think it was red chili flakes but I'm not too sure. Whatever it was, it made it a lot better than any other lasagna any other person could make."

"Well then, I suppose it's an honor to be considered second best."

"It is."

And then they ran out of things to talk about, that was until Regina asked, _Why do you make pancakes every morning?_

"I've always made pancakes for the girls I slept with the next morning. It's like a thank you for letting me have sex with you thing," he shrugged like it was no big deal, "I mean, it's the least I could do before leaving and never seeing them again."

"She doesn't eat them." _I want to though, but my stupid conscious doesn't let me._

"Oh," he sounds defeated.

"But they smell really good, and if you make pancakes like those every girl on campus will want to sleep with you," she said, mentally adding, _Not that every girl on campus doesn't already want to sleep with you._

He chuckled, "Even you?"

"Except me, you have a thing for Mary-I couldn't possibly intrude. And not to mention the fact that I find you completely repulsive."

"Completely?"

 _Not even the slightest,_ she wanted to say but instead. "One-hundred percent."

-{}-

His car didn't start. Probably because he'd left the left indicator on the entire night. The battery was out and no car pickup service (near campus at least) was open at 10:23 PM ( _What kind of car service doesn't help cars 24/7?_ he'd complained and Regina had just shook her head and said, _What kind of idiot leaves their left indicator on all night?_ ). But the stupid car didn't start, and Regina didn't own any jumper cables so he ended up in Regina's car, getting a drive home from the person who'd nearly given him a serious brain injury-and the person who shared dinner with him (but that doesn't count. Mary couldn't make it and why let good food go to waste?).

She'd grumbled about his incompetency as she put her coat back on, fished her keys back out, walked down the stairwells (because the elevators were broken), started the car, and backed out of her reserved parking spot. His face covered with a sheepish smile throughout the entire thing. To be fair, she did deserve to complain. The night must have been hard on her too. She probably just wanted to get some homework done, watch an episode of Orange is the New Black, and go to bed. Instead, she'd accidentally flashed her roommate's (potential) boyfriend, hit him with a metal bat, and spent the rest of the night trying to avoid awkward conversation as she ate (an obvious attempt at a romantic dinner) food prepared by the man she accidentally flashed.

And she obviously wasn't avoiding the awkward conversation because, let's face it, they ran out of things to talk about when she'd declared him utterly undesirable (which she knows isn't true, and he probably does too) and ushered him out of her apartment almost twenty minutes after she'd said so. For heaven's sake, she still didn't know his first name.

So the car ride was silent, and it seemed like it took forever for them to reach his fraternity (she wasn't even the slightest bit surprised that he lived with the kappa beta theta goons, or with the fact that Mary was sleeping with a frat boy-which Mary'd done too many times for her to count). He'd told her to just park in the driveway, and to come in so he could give her a consolation beer. She'd hesitantly agreed, to be polite of course-and no college senior in their right mind would pass the chance at free alcohol. _Just so long it's not Bud Light,_ she'd said as she pressed the handbrake and removed her keys.

He didn't bother to use his own keys to open the door to the house, he just knocked. One of his 'buddies' opened the door. He was big, a little stout, but he looked like one of the players on the football team. _Hey boy, get your ass in here,_ curious at the exchange (no one will ever understand frat boys) she frowned at Locksley.

"This is little John, he was the guy that got me into the fraternity and he's also the guy who became my first actual friend at this school," he pointed to John, patting his back as he did so.

Regina held out her hand, "Hi, I'm Regina."

John pulled Locksley aside for a minute, leaving Regina standing on the porch-her being able to hear everything they said (men are not quiet whisperers). But John focused on her again, "You're Mary's roommate right?"

She nodded, usually this gave her access to any party whenever, and she'd grown to the term 'Mary's roommate'. "I'm just here for a consolation beer."

-{}-

Explaining everything that happened that night was a challenge. John had been the first to mistake her as Locksley's girlfriend to which she had replied, _Oh god no, the only girl he wants to be his girlfriend is Mary, I'm the girl who nearly gave him a concussion._ That statement brought on another slew of questions, which brought on a slew of answers and as Regina had explained-from the very beginning-it brought on a slew of laughter. Her cheeks were hurting, and she was pretty sure that she'd had more than one beer in the time she was there. So by the time she waved goodbye to all the men it's 11:54 and she knew she wouldn't get home until a few minutes after midnight.

"I am really sorry for everything," she said as she unlocked her car, a resounding beep interrupting the silence of the night.

"It's no problem, at least I'll have a fun story to tell when I go home for Christmas," he shrugged it off casually, and Regina thought that whatever happened couldn't have been too bad. "Goodbye, Regina."

"Goodbye..." she frowned, "What's your name again?"

"Robin? What have you been calling me all night?"

"Locksley."

"Well anyways, goodnight Regina," he watched her get into her car and shut the door behind her.

"Goodnight Robin."


	2. Chapter 2: Daniel Stabelmen

Exams were over. The fall semester was finally over. Sororities were putting up decorations even though most of them ended up going home for the holidays, and snow was dusting most parts of campus. Everyone had their winter coats out, and most people showed up to class with red noses and Starbucks' (not so good, but okay tasting) hot chocolate. The first few minutes of class were taken up by the rustling of heavy coats and light backpacks. Heck, even Marian had decided that putting up some decorations would be good because Regina was staying in New York for Christmas.

Robin was around the apartment more often too. Mary had finally caved, and she ate his pancakes now (and she wouldn't shut up about him being a perfect cook). _Oh my fucking god,_ she'd said as Robin had force fed her a chunk of his apple cinnamon, _how the fuck is this even real?_ So Robin stayed, and Mary had come to Regina one night, asking her whether or not Robin was a good idea. Regina had said yes, that he was better than most-and she guessed that was all that was needed to convince Marian because after five weeks (nearly an entire month) of sleeping with him, she was willing to call him her boyfriend, and he was more than ecstatic to call her his girlfriend. Robin was usually in the apartment during the early mornings and the late evenings, which meant that neither Mary or Regina cooked anymore. Breakfast was made by Robin, their lunch was packed by Robin, and dinner was also prepared by Robin. To say that Regina and Marian were growing accustomed to a certain lifestyle would be perfectly true.

And most of the time, Mary used to take a shower right after Robin (and after inhaling whatever breakfast Robin had prepared that day), leaving Regina alone at the dining table to converse with him (who was only wearing a towel more often than not). Mornings for Regina now meant conversations with Robin on almost anything (and anything really did mean anything, they once went from talking about how politicians were cruel bastards to how koalas aren't really all that cute within a span of twenty minutes). Marian had walked out of the shower in the middle of it-towel in hands as she was patting her curly, dark hair dry-her eyebrows had lifted and Robin had stood to go place a chaste kiss on her cheeks, _But koalas are cute_ , she'd said and immediately Robin refuted by saying, _They don't do anything for so long, that mold can grow in their fur._ Marian had scrunched up her nose-dare Regina say-cutely. _Get a room,_ she'd yelled. Robin had thrown their throw cushion at her. It wasn't only the mornings either, he was there during the evenings too. He didn't work and he usually hung out at their apartment ( _Because if a man doesn't treat his girlfriend like the goddess she is, then she has every right to go meet a man that does_ -his words not hers), and Mary came home later than the both of them. Regina walked in to see him lounging on their couch, or in the kitchen making another delicious meal. She'd try to help him, but he almost always ended up ushering her out his wooden spoon marking her path out. Once, they'd just ordered pizza-he was too tired to cook anything, and the pizza place a few minutes down wasn't half bad-crashed on their couch, and watched a movie that neither of them were actually invested in. Mary had joined too (when she got home at least), curling up into his side-which Regina took as her cue to leave the room and go to bed.

It'd been only about a month since Mary and Robin had made it official, and Robin had been around for a good bit of time before that. He'd become a part of their lives, he'd become Mary's boyfriend (Regina was pretty sure that he was the first serious one, and if not Mary had done a damn good job of hiding any previous ones), and he'd become Regina's friend. Even Emma had met him a few times in the last few weeks. In fact, they'd gone out to pick a tree together, he, Regina, and Emma.

There was a tree lot by the subway station closest to their apartment, local, run by a band of seven brothers. They brought in trees every year, and not once did Mary or Regina buy a tree that was alive. They normally stopped by the closest convenience store and bought the first two foot, plastic tree that they saw. They didn't even have any glass ornaments in their place. But this year, Robin had insisted that if he couldn't go home to celebrate Christmas with his family-plane tickets were a bitch, especially during the holidays-he was going to celebrate it nice and proper with his friends in New York, and that meant buying a real tree.

"No it's too green," Robin had said to the seventh tree Emma had pointed at. She growled under her breath, something about him being a little bitch about a tree that was going to die in a month anyways. Regina stifled a laugh, and Emma knew that she'd heard. "OH! How about that one?"

Emma groaned and she and Regina followed him into the tiny forest of pines. "I swear to god, Mary just had to choose the one that takes the most effort, why couldn't she be here today again?"

"Mary had to work, and she has to pack," Regina mumbled, running her gloved fingers across the sharp needles of the trees. Enjoying the little pricks at her fingers. "She's going home and her flight is tomorrow, and you know how Mary is. She won't do anything until the last minute."

Regina shook her head at the tree Robin had picked, "It's to big, the walls aren't high enough." Robin sighed, and disappeared into the thickness again.

"So, are you done packing?" Regina nudged Emma's shoulders.

"I was done packing a day ago." An enthusiastic smile painted itself over her chilled red face.

Emma had gone home for Christmas all three years previous. She loved her family, and her family loved her too. Something Regina hadn't experienced in recent times. "That's exciting," she offered too sure what to say to her.

Emma replied with a faint _hmm,_ and went back to browsing the trees, as did Regina-neither of them coming close to finding one of their liking. That was until Robin tugged at Regina's sleeves, pulling her to where he was standing.

"Look," he said, grinning like a madman.

They bought that tree.

They'd come home a few hours later, Robin insisting that they stop by Michael's to pick up some more decorations and a lot more ornaments, and then stopping by a candy store to buy authentic candy canes to adorn their tree with. They'd come back, ready to load the tree onto the top of Regina's car before they realized that they didn't have any rope to fasten the tree onto the hood. They had to leave Emma waiting at the lot (you weren't allowed to reserve a tree) and go to the hardware store to buy some heavy duty rope. Regina hadn't looked at all their expenses added together yet, but she knew that she'd have to be working overtime at the bar as soon as break was over.

Mary was waiting at the apartment when they got home, **The Nightmare Before Christmas** playing on the television, and a bubbling kettle of the much loved peppermint tea. Robin had come come in first, the box of decorations in his hand, Emma had come in holding the ornaments and the rest of the tree's accessories. Regina had called down Mary to help get the actual tree up into their living room. Nearly thirty minutes later, they'd all collapsed onto the sofa, nothing set up yet, everything tossed about haphazardly. The tree was sitting in the corner. They sat there for a while, until Emma said that if they wanted to get everything in place they'd have to start now.

Robin took that as his cue to blast Christmas music on the radio, start throwing around the fake cotton snow, and 'make this place seem more like the holidays threw up on it'. They began with the tree, first placing all the candy canes, and then draping the (artificial) popcorn string and lights over it. The ornaments came last, and Robin hung them very-and she meant very-meticulously.

"They have to be in the perfect spot," he'd said, "it's like Feng Shui but for Christmas trees."

None of them actually helped until Robin gestured for Mary to come put the star on the top because, _Only the most beautiful is worthy of holding a star._ Emma snorted, trying to conceal her obvious amusement. But after that, Robin had pulled Mary to the little expanse of carpet to dance to Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas Is You'. Even Emma had taken Regina's hand to dance when "Jingle Bell Rock' came on. _Tell me there's a reason your name is Regina,_ she'd joked-referencing the Regina's alternate (where her last name was George and not Mills). They'd been throwing tinsel everywhere, and by the time it was eleven, all four of them were exhausted-lying on the couch once more, halfway falling asleep while Will Ferrel's **Elf** played in the background **.**

Robin had drifted off seconds before Mary, the both of them leaning on each other for support. Emma had left only moments after that, telling Regina that she had an early flight in the morning and that she'd probably already condemned herself to jet lag. Regina had excused herself to her room after turning off the TV and dropping a blanket over the two lovers.

She'd laid there awake for the longest time, thinking about how great things were today. How great life had been since Robin had become a part of it, and how she was wrong to think he ever would make their life worse. She could see it in Mary's smile, and as much as Mary wanted to deny it, a month with Robin had her falling for him. She could tell Robin was infatuated with Mary too, and the way he treated her-it was how Mary deserved to be treated. It was good for Mary. He was good for Mary. and Regina kept falling back to the time where she thought that he didn't deserve Mary's attention. But no.

It was the nicest Christmas (or near-Christmas) Regina had seen (or even been an active part of) in a very, very long time because of Robin. Normally, her Christmases consisted of backhand comments from her mother (about everything-her hair, her weight, her lack of boyfriend), a lot of bitch fights between her and her sister ( _Mother always loved you best, don't act as if you didn't know,_ Zelena-Lena as they called her-would say and Regina wanted to yell about all the things mother had said to her only a few moments ago), and a barely merry Christmas morning. It didn't matter though, this year she was staying in New York, somehow her mother had been sent away on a business trip and Lena was unable to make it on some unknown reason. And Regina was stuck here, in a mildly decorated apartment which was going to be empty in a couple of days.

Hopefully Robin would still hang around.

-{}-

It was the twenty-first of December when Regina had to drive Marian (and Robin, because good boyfriends say goodbye face to face) down to the airport. There was traffic, which meant that even though Mary's flight was at four they had to leave as soon as they had done eating streets were filled with the sounds of angry businessmen who had to get home to their wives, honking from the taxis waiting to drive the people inside to the airport, and the shouts of the bicyclers who were just trying to get going. They were moving at a snail's pace, an inch every other minute-and not to mention the snow, which was just slowing them down even more. Thick flakes were falling over them, forming droplets when they made contact with the warm glass of the windows. The windshield wipers were on, dragging the water away so Regina could see clearly onto the crowded roads.

"This is why you should've taken the subway," Regina said over the insistent honking from the car behind them. The extended loud sounds irking her by the second. "Next time, you're taking the subway."

"I can't," Mary whined from the backseat, pushed against her duffel bag. "I have too much stuff and you know how many creepers there are-especially during Christmas."

"Then just pack one fucking bag Marian, you're going home for a week. A week, not a fucking month," Regina growled as she pressed down on the center of the wheel, honking at the car in front of them. They moved another inch.

"Ladies, c'mon," Robin muttered from next to Regina, "let's be nice to one another."

Both Regina and Mary snapped a _Shut up, Robin_ which brought the car to silence once again. An air of annoyance surrounded all of them, thickening as words were muted under their breaths. Regina wanted to strangle Mary for doing this to her, for not asking Robin to drive her there in the first place. He was her boyfriend, and even though he was here too, wasn't dropping Mary off his job?

Thankfully, the traffic started to disperse, making the drive a lot faster, and Regina had to only bear another twenty minutes of their silence (rather awkward silence). Driving quickly then, Robin had turned in his seat and Mary had leaned forward, the two of them started mumbling among themselves-bringing Mary to giggle every now and them, and Regina could only assume he was talking about things she'd really hate to visualize. And as they approached the little drop off area, Regina was internally screaming that she'd get to be spending nearly a week without the (sometimes) unbearable Mary. Robin had stepped out of the car to help lift out all the luggage, and he'd tugged at Regina's sleeve-making her feel a little guilty about being happy about Mary's departure-and pulled her out of the front for even more assistance. Mary had gone to the counter to check in her bags. Once she'd come back Regina hastily hugged her-whispering a begrudging _I'm going to miss you._ and a _I'm sorry about what I said in the car._ Mary was probably equally as uncomfortable because the hug was short-lived and she'd let go almost immediately. Robin on the other hand, he got a full combo. Tongue down his throat and boobs against his chest and it took all of Regina's willpower to not vomit at the sight of the two of them. Turning, she slid back into the car, waiting for the two of them to stop furiously making out.

What seemed like an hour later, Robin finally sat down in the seat next to hers and they began driving back.

"We should get coffee," he said. Regina almost hit the car in front of her.

"Why?" She asked back. Robin was her friend and she went out to coffee with Emma so why should it be any different? Perhaps because he was dating her roommate, but regardless. Them going out for coffee put a strange feeling in the pit of her gut.

"I've known you for a good amount of time, yeah?"

She nodded.

"Well, I still don't actually _know_ you."

"Do you need to know me?"

"I'd like to, you're an important person in Mary's life."

"Alright, but we're going to Sherwood's," Regina insisted, "They've got the best apple cinnamon ale."

Robin laughed, agreeing with Regina almost instantly. The roads were pretty clear, and the ride to the pub didn't take very long-only about twenty minutes actually. Regina had parked her car in the employees only section, which led Robin to ask, _You work here?_ Regina had nodded, grinning. Her mother might not have considered it an ideal place to work ( _Why don't you work at Sephora, dear? I've heard it's much more...civilized)_ but Regina was proud of it. Free drinks the entire week and above minimum wage made it a decent income-not to mention, Regina's tastes in alcohol had much evolved. _Cool,_ Robin replied after she'd nodded.

"Drinks on me," she announced as they made their way into the pub. It used to be an inn in the early 1900's, but the owners had ripped out the floor above the bottom floor to open it up a bit. The roof had a small granite bar where (if it was nice enough outside) most of the employees took their break. The inside was gorgeous. A dominating cherry oak bar took up room in the very back-so that it was the very first thing the customers saw when they entered. The ceiling was kind of high and the pub never felt crowded or sweaty. Imitation torches lined the walls, giving the whole building a reddish glow. A wine shelf made of the same cherry wood stood behind the bar, soft rock playing in the background. There were a few apartments above them, but that was where only a few of the permanent workers lived-the rest of the space used as a storage facility.

Robin breathed out an astonished 'wow' as they walked into the building. "This place is..."

"Pretty great," Regina finished his sentence. Nudging him on the shoulder, she led him towards the counter. She was glad to see Ruby working tonight, and picked up her pace. She excitedly whisper-shouted as they finally reached the counter, "Ruby!"

Ruby picked up her head from the drink she was mixing, a smile drawing itself onto her face. She poured the drink into a glass, smiled sweetly at the customer, and then made her way to where Regina was sitting. "Regina...and Robin?"

Robin chuckled, and Regina explained how any sane person would need drinks after dropping Mary off at the airport. Ruby bobbed her head in understanding and then asked, "What'll the poison be tonight?"

"Apple cinnamon ale," Regina responded, "and the drinks are on my card."

"You don't have to do that," Robin spoke from next to her. "I can buy my own, or at least pay for half of the bill."

"Trust me Bird Boy, if you work here you gotta take advantage of the perks. Free booze being one," Ruby stated (as she was pouring two glasses of the amber liquid into tall glasses), not giving a chance for Regina to tell Robin the exact same thing. "Let her take the bill, it won't kill your ego."

Regina half laughed-half snorted at the end of Ruby's remark. "It's true, she's right. I can handle this-that is if I don't hurt your feelings," Regina nodded a thanks to Ruby and took a sip of the beverage.

Robin played along, following Ruby's teasing and Regina's bubbly lightness. It wasn't until a half hour later (when they were on their third glass) when Robin asked the very first question.

"Why are you here?" That was the first question. Regina didn't quite understand it. _Why is anyone here?_ she wanted to reply, but before she could Robin had added, "Like why NYU? I'm sure a girl like you would've gotten into any school she wanted."

Regina pursed her lips, tightening them into a straight line. Her eyes cast down for a moment. _My mom,_ she wanted to say, _I applied to all of the Ivy's because she told me to and I didn't get into a single one-NYU was good enough._ "I like the school, it's not to bad in academics. Good people."

"That is the biggest load of shit I have ever heard. Not the part about NYU being a good school-the part where you said you liked it."

Regina shrugged, not sure what to say next. "You were wrong about me being the type of girl to get into any school she wanted. Shit for shit, right?"

He looked at her strangely, like he was so confused by just her breathing. He sighed, shifted his head, and roved his eyes anywhere but directly at her face. "I suppose so-" he paused, "How'd you end up with Mary?"

"I actually had a dog," she grinned at the memory of Pongo. "It was like two weeks into freshman year and I was just hanging around the park when this dalmatian ran up to me. Archie, the guy who worked at the pound, he got around to telling me that no one wanted Pongo because he was an old dog and that he was to be put down the very next day . My dorm didn't take pets and I didn't want to join a sorority, so I looked at the bulletin board for any apartment spaces and the only one that looked livable was Mary's. So I moved in with her, and got the dog."

"Where is he now?"

"He died last year actually, Archie wasn't kidding when he said Pongo was old. He was twelve when I got him, fifteen when he died."

"That seems like shit to go through."

"Yeah, it was," Regina gulped down the rest of her drink. "But enough about me, what about you. What cooking school do you want to go to?"

"It's not cooking school, it's culinary school."

"Same difference."

"There's one in France, it's called Le Cordon Bleu. It's pretty great if I do say so myself."

Regina lifted her wrist, checking the time, "Yeah, good luck with that. But it's almost six. We should get going."

"No, let's stay."

Regina wanted to tell him that it wasn't a good idea to stay, but he ordered another two ales and Regina would never put them to waste.

-{}-

Regret is a strong feeling.

Robin had asked them to stay, and they did. Too late, Regina didn't even remember when they left the bar, but she did remember Ruby coming out with the hot buttered rum. Nothing after that. Flashes maybe, dancing on the tabletops, helping Ruby mix drinks, and drunkenly confessing her love to a tree.

Regret is a strong feeling.

Waking up in a fraternity, now that is beyond regret. Regina had listened to Mary's stories (surprising since Regina could barely find herself to remember Mary's birthday-but no, her sexual endeavors, Regina knew how each story played out word by word) and none of then made any fraternity seem like a good place to fall asleep. The one story about how Mary's face had almost ended up in a toilet bowl particularly came to mind. Regina groaned, trying to pry her eyes open so she could see more than just a few glimpses of her surroundings. But to no avail, the throbbing was too much above her eyes and throughout her head for her to open her eyes without pain. She tried to call somebody, but a weak, hoarse plea came out instead. Regina lifted her hand to her throat, swallowed the only spit in her mouth, and winced at the dry rawness of it. She managed to open her eyes, fear seeping at the back of her mind.

But it was only the living room, and there was a blanket laid over top of her. She felt better, but she needed to look at herself. Look at the damage she'd done. Judging by the light slightly streaming through the little gaps in the closed blinds, it was about six-ish in the morning, which meant she'd had a good five to six hours to hopefully digest all the alcohol in her system. Still, her head felt like a stage for a screamo band, and water never hurt a woman with a hangover. So, she mapped out her strategy. Find a bathroom, wash her face if she needed, find a bottle of water (never tap, you don't know what kind of stuff is in tap water these days-and especially on campus), and leave. Hightail it out of here (if whoever drove them back took her car). So she hurled herself, as best she could, onto her feet and stretched her sore limbs over her head. Satisfying clicks from her bones resonated around her ears-louder, but they didn't cause a worse headache.

She let the blanket fall half onto the floor and half onto the couch, her eyes flitting down to the clothes she was in. An old football (well soccer, but it was the England team and football seems more fitting of the situation-probably one of Robin's shirts) jersey that was nearly four sizes too big came down to her mid-thigh, a pair of worn (but thankfully washed) basketball shorts covering three fourths of her legs. Her immediate thought was, _Who dressed me?_ but then she remembered the she didn't remember what had happened at all and that she could've dressed herself. Her hair felt greasy, and almost her entire body felt somewhere between numb and sore.

She trudged out of the living room, first finding the kitchen, and then stumbling upon a hallway with multiple doors. Slowly, she opened each one, hoping to find that one of them would be a bathroom.

"What're you doing?"

She jumped back and yelped, surprise overriding her thoughts. But it was only John, and anger replaced surprise. "What the fuck John?" She said, her words a hushed yell, careful not to wake the others. "You can't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he apologized, "But what're you doing?"

"I was looking for the bathroom," she muttered under her breath, "to check on my face."

"You look fine," John offered, and he shrugged as her quickly nodded at her appearance. "No stray makeup or anything."

"John," she smiled sweetly, and then channeling all of her inner evil she said, "take me to the fucking bathroom."

John put his big hands in the air, clearly afraid of her (even though her really shouldn't be, he was the Empire state building compared to her-but to be fair, she wasn't to tall either). He pointed to the last door on the left and quickly uttered, _That's the bathroom, your highness._ Regina thanked him and allowed him to put his arms down-a quiet chuckle escaping from both of them, _Don't you dare call me that again, not of you don't want your head on a silver platter._

Regina made her way to the bathroom (which was also surprisingly pleasant-no used condoms anywhere in sight) still on the tips of her toes. She didn't check her face in the mirror first, she peed (she hadn't peed since yesterday afternoon, and she had drunk and lot-and that means a shit ton-of liquids last night). She stood, flushing the toilet, and shuffling over to the mirror. Her hair was a mess. It was fairly short, barely to the base of her neck, and that made it easier for it to become a hellish birds nest. Some clumped close to her skull, flattened because of the natural oils and from sleeping on that side. Some were thrown up, defying gravity. She ran a hand through the mess, her fingers getting stuck in the knots and tangles. She heaved a sigh of annoyance-this was just what she needed. She tried to calm her tendrils as best she could, which only meant that nearly twenty minutes later most of her hair was down and not clumped. Besides that, she looked fine (not mentioning the little line of dried drool lining the corner of her lip which she wiped off with a little water), a little tired but not to bad for a person who nearly drank herself to oblivion the night previous.

Once she decided that the throbbing in her head was getting too much, and that she looked okay for someone who was piss drunk only six to seven hours ago, she slipped out of the bathroom and found her path back to the kitchen. Her bare feet were warm against the cool tile in the kitchen, the feeling slightly soothing to touch. Walking over to the silver fridge, she pulled out a bottle of cold water, sloppily chugging down half the bottle, breathing for a little, and then putting it back against her mouth to finish all the water. She opened the fridge again to reach for another bottle of water, and took a long sip from that one as well.

"We have Advil in the cupboard."

Regina's heart jumped in her chest and she threw the bottle behind her, before she even turned to see a wide-eyed Robin crouched close to the ground.

"You are going to seriously hurt me one day," Robin breathed, smirking slightly as he rose back onto his feet. "You are going to be responsible for the possibility of brain damage in the future-correction-near future."

"Fucking hell," Regina swore, her hand resting above her wildly thumping heart. "What is with frat boys and scaring innocent people?!"

"I'm sorry?" He said, as if it were more like a question. "But we do have Advil in the cupboard, if you want some?"

Regina nodded at his offer, gratefully swallowing two of the pills. The headache didn't subside all the way right then, but a few minutes later she could feel the thumping in her skull slowing down to small pricking. "Thanks for the..." she gestured to the pill bottle, "and for the clothes, and for not sending me home drunk, and not letting me drive. I think."

"Oh, yeah." He grinned sheepishly. "About your car..."

"What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Car." Her words were sharp, the vein in her forehead popping out slightly-well significantly-at what he said. She'd worked her butt off during high school to get that car, and she'd be damned if that piece of shit was hurt in any way.

"We took a taxi, Ruby took your keys from you after your fourth glass of buttered rum. The car is still at the bar. Hopefully."

"Dammit Robin! Don't tell me you were drunk too?" She groaned, the pain coming back.

"Do you want breakfast?" He asked, changing the topic.

"Were you drunk too? Answer me or I swear I'll cut your balls off with a-a-a straw or something!"

"I was a little drunk," Robin said under his breath, nothing above a whisper, and then asks again, "Do you want anything to eat?"

Regina tried not to go over there and strangle him to death, so she just took a deep breath and prepared to refuse. But as she tried to say no, her stomach let out a tiny growl-and hoping he hadn't heard that she coughed slightly and said, "No."

He smiled that devilishly handsome smile-dimples and all-shook his head, _Yeah, sure you don't want to eat anything?_ and pointed to her stomach. _I heard that, louder than anything I've ever heard before._ He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her down at the counter. _Stay. I'm making bacon and eggs, and pancakes if you want._

She was salivating at the mere thought of them, and she curtly nodded as if she could care less about what he made for breakfast (the truth was though, she cared a lot). He poured her a mug of coffee first, "Black, no sugar, no cream," she requested and he replied with an _I know, I've been hanging out with you long enough to know how you take your coffee._

Regina tried not to snort at his remark, instead trying to calm the gnawing in her belly. The smells of his cooking not helping. She reached down into (the nonexistent) her pocket for her phone, realizing these weren't her clothes, and she hadn't seen her phone since last night. "Where is my phone?"

"In your coat," he replied not taking his eyes off of the eggs.

"Yes my coat, and where is my coat?"

"In the coat closet. Your clothes are in the washer."

"And why are my clothes in the washer?"

"Because you threw up all over yourself before you passed out so I got John to help me get you out of your dirty clothes. I put them in the washer so you could go home with dignity in the morning. They're probably dry too, I put 'em in the drier just an hour ago."

Regina didn't hear anything besides 'So I got John to help me get you out of your dirty clothes'. Her cheeks were growing warm from rage and embarrassment. "You saw me naked?"

"Not entirely, I mean, you were still in your bra and your undies."

"YOU SAW ME NAKED?!"

Her voice echoed through the entire house, fear striking into Robin's entire being. He held his arms up in surrender, "Now, don't be too hasty...I've seen more."

That was when all of hell broke loose. Regina took the closest item and threw it at Robin. "You jerk! You should have woken me up! You are just one big bag of pond scum...no not pond scum, the mucus that oozes off the fungus on pond scum!"

"Jesus woman! You've got to stop throwing things at me!" He shrieked as her ducked against her throws.

"You need to stop pissing me off," she countered. Her anger simmering down a notch as she took her seat once again. "And stop seeing me naked."

-{}-

Regina had gotten home at 10:23 AM on the twenty-second of December. There was the whole fiasco at Robin's place, and then there was the drive back to the bar where Regina had taken her keys from Ruby, bid a (not so sweet) goodbye to Robin, and drove home as fast she could. She'd nearly forgotten all the decorations at her place and the moment she stepped into her apartment she assaulted by the Christmassy-ness. Scoffing, she dropped everything at the front mat-her coat, her purse, and all of her will and ran herself to the bathroom. It was that time of year in New York that the cold was so cold that it seeped into your skin, into your bones-it was that time of year for baths and peppermint bath bombs. Which was exactly what Regina indulged in. She got some how water running in the bathtub and wriggled out of her (despite the wash) crusty clothes, stepping into the little bit of relaxation she got once or twice every year. The bath bomb has turned the water into a white-ish, red-ish sparkly liquid and she could feel the scent of the peppermint covering her own skin.

She walked out of the bath after the water had gone cold, and the her fingertips had pruned beyond compare. Her hair was dripping, the little sounds echoing quietly through the bathroom. The whole place was quiet, too quiet and by the time Regina was on the couch (ordering in some pizza) the loneliness really hit her. It dawned on her that-despite the terrible relationship she had with her mother-that everyone had something to do this Christmas. Of course, she and Emma had already exchanged presents and Emma had even offered to take her along to Maine (but Regina was from Maine too and even being in the same state as her mother had her blood pressure spiking-albeit the fact that she was only 22). So as she did every year, she turned down Emma and this time she didn't even get to experience the half-assed holiday her family celebrated.

So Regina had gotten out of the bath, ordered a pizza, and switched on the TV to the Hallmark channel to get her fill of cheesy romances that involved elves or Santa. That was her coping mechanism, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

She contemplated calling Emma, and decided to do so after finishing the large cheese pizza (which had taken up more than half the space on the couch, and more than all the space in her stomach). Hell, she'd do it before she finished the pizza, and she did. She got up and plucked the handset off the charging station, pressed in Emma's numbed and waited for the ringer to turn into Emma's voice. Chewing on her first slice, the voicemail went through the phone. _Hi, you've reached Emma Swan, if it's urgent, please leave a message. Thanks, and bye!_ Regina ended the call and redialed hoping that Emma would leave whatever she was doing to just talk for a few minutes.

Lo and behold, she did. "What do you want? I'm kind of making Christmas cookies and stuff," Regina could hear the struggle in her voice. Emma was known for her TV dinners and takeout, not for her skills in the kitchen. Regina even heard the _Fuck, how do spread icing without popping the bag?_ that Emma had muttered absentmindedly.

"Don't you just squeeze it lightly? So it oozes instead of bursting?" She said through the garbled noises of her swallowing the food.

"Why did you call, Regina?"

"I was just wondering what you were doing, you know, as a friend who cares about you," she lifted another slice out of the box, licking the edge of her lips where the sauce had found it's place.

"I told you that we had enough room for one more, you could've come with me."

"I wouldn't want to intrude, I'm too nice for that. And I think you're parents wouldn't appreciate another college student eating all of their food and using all of their electricity."

"My parents want to meet my only friend Regina, they don't care about that stuff."

"I know, I was just making up an excuse."

"You're lonely," Emma sighed. "I should've known."

"I'm bored. There's a difference," Regina dismissed, worrying that she was ruining the fun (or whatever Emma was experiencing with her family) Emma was having. Regina could almost see Emma shaking her head through the phone.

"I have to go, there's a baby here and I think he just swallowed the pop tab thing on cans. Go do something, anything really."

She laughed, saying a goodbye to Emma and deciding that she was only as lonely as she made herself to be. So she stuffed the leftover pizza in the fridge, grabbed her keys and trudged out-back into the cold. Opening the door, she slipped into the battered up vehicle, the seats smelling like mothballs and rust dotting a few spots. She put the key in the ignition, the car wheezing to life (to be fair, the car was bought fourth hand, and it was bought almost six years ago-no one actually expected it to run smoothly). It stuttered as she reversed out of her parking spot, and as it did so Regina prayed for it to not break down.

It didn't and Regina breathed a thank you under her breath before revving out of the parking lot. It took her a good fifteen minutes to get there, and another ten to find a place to park her car. Eventually she parked her car a block away from the Metropolitan Art Museum.

Evidently, that became her first stop.

The interior looked absolutely fantastic. Arches marked every entryway, columns of what looked like marble holding up the ceiling, golden sculptures, high windows, and (at least to her) flawless paintings dotting every corner of the museum. This was her first time coming here, even though she had lived in New York for the last four years, and she was absolutely entranced. She couldn't draw for shit, she tried taking an art class once but the teacher had kicked her out because Regina 'couldn't be taught'.

Regina was standing in front of "The Starry Night", and she knew that any real expert in art would call her a wannabe, but she loved the painting. Blue had been her favorite color since forever, and perhaps that was the reason she absolutely adored the piece of art.

"You should know that you're far prettier than that."

She assumed he was talking to someone else, and kept her eyes trained forward.

"I'm sorry if I creeped you out or anything, I can just leave."

"No, it's fine. Thank you," she turned when she realized that he was in fact talking to her. He was attractive, short brown hair, his smile friendly (but not in a weird way)."But I'm sure that you were lying to get my attention. Pick up lines usually work like that."

He laughed, and shook his head, "My name's Daniel. You can call me Daniel."

"Well then, if we're doing introductions. My name is Regina. You can call me Regina," she copied him, offering her hand for a handshake. He took it softly, and gave her a gentle shake. Pinpricks embedded themselves onto her skin.

"So do you come here often?" He raised an eyebrow.

"My first time actually, you?"

"I have to, I work here, " he said, proud yet slightly embarrassed of his position in the museum.

"Are you like a tour guide or something?"

"No, I work the evening shift." He coughed out the rest of his words.

"I'm sorry, come again?" Regina apologized, not being able to hear the second part of his statement.

"I work the evening shift, as a janitor."

Laughter bubbled up at the back of her throat, but she tried to hold it back. She covered her mouth so he wouldn't see the devious grin that had planted itself on her face.

"It's okay. Most girls laugh at me," he shrugged. Regina cleared her throat and straightened her face-only a few seconds later she broke out in huge chortles (she even snorted a little but she would never admit that).

He held out his hand shyly, "Want to go get ice cream with me?"

"Maybe later."

-{}-

Regina had been to frat parties before. Not to many, but she certainly had experience with them. One or two last year, and she remembered the frat party that she followed Mary to in sophomore year because she was scared Mary was getting involved with serious drugs. But to all the frat parties she'd been to, she gone as Mary's friend (which meant that Mary forced her to go with her so that Regina wouldn't end up as a sad dog lady-if dog ladies are even a thing). She'd never been invited-or she'd never voluntarily showed up. It was true that Regina preferred to stay at home, but every now and then she'd go to a dorm party or something like that. She just hated frat parties. Too many drunk boys, too many drunk girls (not that she wasn't counting herself in that mix), and loud, sucky music that ran on for too long. These were just frat parties though, there was one every other weekend (trust-fund boys have a boat load of money to waste on these kind of things). She'd never actually been to a seasonal one. There are, of course, stories that the students tell about the famous Christmas complex. All of them-every single fraternity-blended into one. It was like the ultimate party, and every year it just got bigger. The whole housing complex was involved, all the buildings were used, and the next morning you either woke up safe, in your home or in somebody else's, and when you go out to see the damage-there's nothing left. Not one red solo cup in the grass, not one toilet paper roll in a tree, its as if the party never happened. For the entirety of their college career, Mary hated missing the Christmas complex and Regina had loved being in a completely different state when it happened.

So when Robin had come over to pick up some of his clothes on the morning of the twenty-fourth, and had said-with his eyebrows all lifted, _Wanna come to this thing the fraternities are having? The Christmas complex, John said._ Regina had almost choked on her chocolate milk. Gulping it down, she cleared her throat and wheezed out a, _No thank you._

 _"_ But you _have_ to come," Robin had whined, throwing his clothes up in a hissy fit. "I'm not gonna know anyone there."

"You live with some of them, Robin. Don't give me that crap," Regina had dismissed him, waving her hand in the air as exasperated people do.

"But you _have_ to," he begged, "I'll make you food for the rest of your life."

"No, I can't. And I really hope that I'm never going to see you again after college," she retorted, her voice going sing-songy at the end of her statement.

"Why the fuck not?"

This question made Regina a bit nervous. She didn't know why but it did. She had a date. It wasn't like a life-changing event or anything, it was just that she hadn't had a real date since prom, and even that didn't count because he ended up dancing with another girl anyways. It was with Daniel, who she had given her number to before she left the art museum. He'd called her the same day, asking if it was okay to take her out on Christmas Eve because he couldn't on the twenty-third, and he really wanted to see her again. She'd said yes, discernibly, and telling Robin made her uncomfortable. It wasn't about telling other people either, she'd ranted about this date to Emma for a good forty-five minutes earlier. She just didn't want to tell Robin.

"I'm busy?" She suggested, the answer coming out more like an enquiry of her own.

"Doing what? What're you doing?"

"I-um-might have a-uh-date sort of thing," she grimaced as she stuttered her words out.

Robin's mouth suddenly filled up with a sour flavor, he shook it away a second later and put on a cheery smile. "Bring him! Or her. Or whoever," he said, his enthusiasm clearly false.

"Him. We're going to dinner, Robin. I can't cancel and take him to a-a frat party instead."

"Bring him after," he pointed out, and then grinned. "Unless you wanted to bring him back here and do him on you-"

"Shut up, you ass," she tossed him his shirt as she picked it up off the floor. "I don't have sex on the first date."

"I am now beginning to think you don't have sex at all."

"Very funny, just get your clothes and get out of my apartment, Locksley."

"I didn't know we were calling each other by our last name, Mills," he called. "Speaking of which. What's the dude's name?"

"Daniel Stabelman."

"And how old is he?"

"I don't actually know, but he looks about my age."

"And what is he doing with his life?"

"I...don't know that as well."

"What do you know about him Regina? Because I worry you're going out with a serial killer, or even worse-a chess club kid."

"He's not a serial killer, and all need to know is that his name is Daniel Stabelman and that he's a good guy."

"Whatever you say," he sighed, as if he was giving in with defeat. "Just bring him to the party."

Regina stuck her tongue out at him, before lifting him up by the ear and throwing him out. She could hear the soft voices of him and her neighbor talking about how the weather was absolutely terrible and how they should've never come to New York.

-{}-

Daniel showed up three minutes early (not that Regina was counting-or staring vicariously at the clock on her phone) at the door of her apartment. His hair was a mess either from running his fingers through it nervously (which she secretly hoped is how her felt because she was nervous as hell) or from the wind. He had on a dress shirt and dark jeans (not to shabby, considering Regina wasn't even actually wearing a dress). He had roses in one hand (the petals falling and the flowers crushed, but it was the thought that mattered) and the other was stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He said a nervous, _Hey, you look nice._ And she replied with a tiny smile, and gesturing him inside. They made choppy small talk, tiptoeing around the silence (pre-date talk is always the most uncomfortable), before they both headed out. It was ten minutes into their walk to the restaurant prior getting a phone call from the place telling him that they couldn't fit him in because Christmas was their busiest night besides Valentines.

That's how they ended up outside on a street corner, eating hotdogs (that were pretty damn good) and pretzels made by Joe's Dawg's vendor cart. They'd been walking and talking for the past hour, and she'd learned a lot about him. He was an artist, an aspiring artist, in his first year of art school-he'd graduated college a year earlier-at New York Academy of Art. He'd worked at the museum part-time but he'd been doing some freelance work. _I dunno, I like it I guess,_ was his answer when she asked him why art. And the conversation went on to Regina's ambitions and goals, what she was doing now, and how she was liking the city-and after what seemed like a short time (it was nearly ten, so they'd spent a good three hours together) they were saying end of date things. They were saying goodbye-sort of.

"I'm really sorry," Daniel spoke through his chewing, swallowing his last bit of pretzel and then saying, "I really am. I'll make it up to you..somehow?"

Regina shook her head, "No, no, it's fine. It's better than fine. This was actually one of the best dates I've been on, and I really like these hotdogs so you don't have to anything."

He huffed, "So I guess there's not going to be a second date, huh?"

Regina had wanted to say that there would be, because she really did like him. It was just that she knew she wasn't ready for a romantic relationship, she had too much to do, and Daniel seemed like the kind of guy who would be in a committed area-and that wasn't what she'd be able to give him. So she sadly said, "No. But not because this was a terrible date-"

"See, I told you it was a terrible date."

"Anyways, it's not that. You're great, and I really want to say that there will be a second date," because it was true, she liked him and wanted to pursue something (really, she did) with him, "But it can't be now. Timing, and nothing else."

He nodded, understanding what she was saying. Turning away from-pointing-her he said, "Well then, goodbye Regina Mills. I hope to see you soon."

Regina looked forward, not realizing that they were back at the front of her apartment building. She looked back at Daniel, and then thought of what Robin had said. "Hey Daniel? Wanna go to a party with me?"

-{}-

Robin was waiting on the porch when Regina and Daniel-at least he assumed the guy was Daniel-walked up to the doors of his house. He'd been on his third pre-party beer and his second bag of stale bar snacks, thinking about different ways to stay drunk throughout the night without getting alcohol poisoning. He saw them first, they were coming around the corner. So, he jumped to his feet, put his beer aside and wiped the cajun flavoring on the side of jeans. They weren't holding hands (which he was internally happy about), and Daniel hadn't given her his scarf or anything. He was going to walk up to them, he meant to say hello (maybe even punch Daniel in the face-civilly, of course), but instead his feet took him back into the house.

He'd seen her, staring down at her boots, until Daniel said some sort of joke, and she laughed. A little string pulled at his gut, she was his friend-and he knew that this was exactly how she felt when he was obsessed with Marian. Wary, afraid that the new guy might hurt her friend. But he seemed like a good nut, someone that she could handle, so he went back inside. Waving John off as he made his way to the kitchen. He sat down at the counter, grabbing a new red solo cup and pouring the first liquor his hand grasped.

The doorbell rang after a few minutes, and John raised his eyebrows at him, _Do you want to get the door, red-coat?_ To which Robin replied, _Not in this lifetime, Yank._ And that had John puffing out a breath of frustration before taking himself to the entrance of their home. Robin could hear the nervous 'hello' Daniel had offered (probably intimidated by John's frame) and Regina's comfortable _Hey Johnny,_ smirking at the uncomfortableness Daniel presented. He sipped from the cup, wincing as the drink (vodka, he thought) ran down his throat. Their steps getting louder as more seconds past.

"Hey Robin," Regina took a seat next to him, poking his shoulder with her elbow as she shuffled out of her coat.

"Ow," he grumbled, a little bit of his drink spurting out of his mouth, dribbling back into the the plastic cup. "Watch your elbow. And your fascination of hurting me seems to be getting gargantuan these days."

She snickered at his comment before jabbing him with her elbow again (and a little rush of joy flooded her when he _owwed_ again), "This is Daniel," she said opening her hands in Daniel's direction (who was still shaking a little because of John).

"Um, hi," he briefly glanced at Robin and then back over his shoulder at John-who was still giving Daniel a semi-glare.

Robin grunted a greeting, Regina poking his shoulder and gritting her teeth with annoyance, and then said as quietly as he could, "Hello." Adding, _bastard,_ as Daniel and Regina left.

The party actually started after eleven-thirty. That was when most of the people started pouring in. Sweaty bodies crowded most of the fraternities' living rooms, people were out on lawns too. Boys were chugging kegs of beer and girls were drinking vodka as if it was water. The music was so loud that all they needed for the whole block was one house of cosmically high-volumed sound. The new boys (the nerdy ones who only got in because of their dad's, or the ones who just joined the school this year) in the fraternities were being pushed around as they were running after everybody who threw their solo in the lawns instead of the trash cans, and shooting daggers at everybody who tossed rolls of toilet paper in the tress.

Daniel was off amongst the crowds of dancing people, gyrating hips, wiggling asses, and flailing arm (that sometimes had a hand that was grasping a beer-she could see the accidents waiting to happen). He'd asked her if she'd wanted to dance, but she waved him off ( _I don't dance, I can't dance, sorry.)._ So, she was left walking from house to house-attempting to find either John or Robin so she could at least talk to somebody instead of being bored out of her mind. Provided John could scare all the guys that tried to offer her a drink (she declined, knowing full and well that if she took it she would wake up in someone else's apartment the next morning).She didn't know anybody there (of course she'd seen some faces in her classes, but she'd never actually bother herself into talking to them-they just didn't seem that interesting.

So, the safest thing to do now was to wait. She carried herself to the table with the drinks, poured herself a rum and coke, and went back to her little spot in the grass, watching Daniel dance his life off. There was a moment when he stopped, and sat down next to her.

"This is great," he panted, the ends of his hair wet from his sweat. He'd taken off the buttons of his shirt, rolled his sleeves up, and allowed the white t-shirt he'd worn underneath show through. "This is one of the best parties I have ever been to."

"Sure. Aren't you cold?" Regina asked furrowing her eyebrows-worried that he might catch something.

"Nah, They've got heaters up there," he pointed somewhere in the expanse of people (she didn't even bother looking at where he pointed).

They were situated there for the entirety of the next song, in their own quiet hummed blur (trying to avoid the music and the screaming college kids). Their breaths came out in puffs, their noses slowly turning red. They didn't bother speaking, instead watching the others dance and drink. Their eyes were roaming, and (not meaning to) her eyes landed on Daniel. He was looking away, a small smile etched on his lips, and cheeks so rosy it made her jealous. His eyes were at peace.

Softly.

"Want to dance?"

"You want to dance?"

"I want to dance."

"You just said you couldn't."

"I changed my mind."

"You want to dance? With me?"

"I want to dance with you."

-{}-

Robin had had too many jello shots to count. He'd also had too many jello shots to keep anything down. Everything he'd ever eaten that day (even the disgusting fish tacos John had made for lunch despite Robin's hesitance to let him anywhere near food) and he was pretty sure some of his stomach acids too. Thank god this wasn't his house (or he'd be on cleanup duty for sure), the toilet bowl was a wasteland, the whole place reeked of three-minute sex and vomiting (which he hoped didn't happen at the same time). His face rested too close to the bowl, his nose nearly numb from the odor.

He could hold his alcohol. That was the funny bit. He'd over done it-over done himself-this time. He didn't know why. It started with the vodka at the bar in his house. Then it was the (he lost count) hundreds of refills of Jack Daniels. Then beer pong (which he won). And then the fraternity across the street came over with the most jello he'd seen in his life. He was in a bathroom, puking his guts out, ripping his liver to shreds, and he didn't know why.

Why didn't he know why?

His belly clenched, bile rose in his throat. He turned his head over the opening on the toilet. Letting the stream of mostly liquids pour up his larynx and into the already chunky water. He pulled his head back, wiping his mouth on his dirty sleeve.

His eyes stung. They stung so much.

He needed a drink.

He splashed his face with water, cleaned his shirt as best he could, and almost kicked the door down. Except he forgot one thing. John was waiting outside.

"Get out of my way," he slurred, his feet wobbly under his weight. "Get the fuck out of my way John."

John crossed his arms, towering over Robin. Gently-as if he was speaking to a child, "I can't let you get another drink."

Robin shoved John against the wall, "I need that drink John. I fucking _need_ that drink."

"No you don't," John grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pried him off, "You need to stop. Stop it right now."

"What do I need to stop John? Just tell me what I need to do, and if you are right," he paused, backing away. "I'll drink anyways. I'm going to drink until I know."

"You're falling in love with her," John whispered. "You need to stop falling in love with her."

That was what Robin needed, he reared his arm, clenching his hand into a fist. In a second it was colliding with John's face. A sickening crack filling the stunned silence. The kids started chanting _Fight, fight, fight._ And even though John was one of the gentlest men he'd ever met, he could hold his own. He stood a couple feet away, wiping the drops of blood off of his upper lip.

"You're wrong about that mate," Robin spat.

John couldn't take it anymore.

No one saw what exactly happened. They say that that John kneed him in the gut first, then the face (two black eyes), Robin put up a fight. But by the time Regina had caught wind and come with Daniel (god he hated that name-Daniel), Robin's mouth tasted like iron and he couldn't feel anything below his neck.

The next thing Robin knew he was in the bathroom (the same one he'd been in before the fight), with his head cradled in Regina's lap. She was wiping the blood off of his lips and his cheeks, dabbing more like it. He could hear distinct voices, shreds of a conversation.

 _What happened? Is...okay?_

 _I don't know, John...hurt too...Daniel, I'm sorry._

 _It's fine...second date?_

 _I'm...reconsidering...seven thirty next Friday?_

Robin let out a groan, a gruff statement that he was still there. A tinkling laugh and a bag of ice. He passed out soon after.

He'd never remember anything of that fight.

 **A.N.** Sorry it took so long to update, I've just been putting my all into this chapter. Almost 11,000 words long. Sorry for any mistakes, once again. And I hope you enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3: It was a Wednesday Evening

Regina was at a hospital Thursday morning.

-{}-

"Emma..."

Broken sobs. Gasping words. Pauses that last forever.

"I'm...I'm..."

Fear. Shame. Worry.

"Emma, I'm pregnant."

-{}-

It was the beginning of May. It was rainy most days, and the grass was greener than ever. The campus trees were overflowing with blooming flowers, and the sidewalks littered with the falling petals. _I love you_ 's had been exchanged between Robin and Marian only a week before. Life had moved on, of course John had forgiven Robin for the fight (conveniently forgetting what it was they were fighting about, or who started the fight), and Robin hadn't gathered any recollection about why he'd sucker punched John in the face. Daniel and Regina had been dating for nearly three months (they were adorable, Emma kept on gushing about how Daniel was perfect for Regina and vice versa). Yale law had sent out letters of acceptance in late April, and Regina (whose mother was the slightest bit proud of her daughter-despite the fact that she never had been before) had been accepted.

Everything was well.

That was until the morning of May fifth.

It had been four days since Regina had diagnosed herself with the stomach flu, it had been four days since she started missing her morning classes to stay home and drink as much Pepto Bismol as she could. On the fifth day (the morning of May fifth) Mary's had been cancelled (which meant she was stuck at home with Regina vomiting her life out in the bathroom a few feet away). And while Regina was puking her guts out, Mary had said, _With the way you've been feeling for the last few days, I'd think you were pregnant._

Regina knew that Mary was no doctor and that listening to her would be like listening to Donald Trump's foreign policy. But it didn't mean that it couldn't irk her. It did irk her. The little voice in the back of her head whispering _I think you're pregnant, I think you're pregnant, I think you're pregnant._ So she gave in. She went to the pharmacy at 10:34 that night, and bought five pregnancy tests (even though she knew that she couldn't be pregnant-she and Daniel had only had sex twice, and each of those times he was wearing a condom), and when she got home she peed on every single one (still completely-that was a lie-sure that Mary was wrong, and that she wasn't pregnant).

She just had to wait.

She just had to wait.

Anxiety.

False hope.

Five minutes later, she was still on the toilet. The test wasn't in her hands (she was allowed to be afraid-this was her entire future). Be it as it may, there was sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew. The tests weren't in her hands when she started to cry, the tests weren't in her hands when tremors of disappointment shook her body, the tests weren't in her hands when she called Emma. She didn't have to look at them.

She knew.

"Emma..."

Broken sobs. Gasping words. Pauses that last forever.

"I'm...I'm..."

Fear. Shame. Worry.

"Emma, I'm pregnant."

Emma knocked on their door not five minutes later. Mary had answered it, asking _Why are you here so late?_ Emma had replied with _Regina. Come with me._ Emma and Mary had rushed to the bathroom, only to find a red-eyed Regina sitting in the corner. She wasn't crying, just staring blankly at the wall opposite to her. Emma was the one who saw the tests on the counter, Emma was the one to pick them up, Emma was the one who whispered _Positive_ with contempt written all over her face. Mary was on the floor with Regina, stroking her back, murmuring words of support in her ear (but Mary didn't know what for, so she was saying generic feel better things- _It's okay, everything will be fine, it's alright)._

Emma spoke first. Emma always spoke first.

"Is it Daniel's?" She asked. "Is the baby Daniel's?"

Regina nodded meekly. Mary was shocked (the irony of it all-everyone thought that the first one to get knocked up would be her, but apparently not). "You're pregnant?"

She nodded again. Hoarsely, "I don't understand how."

"You have sex, his swimmer finds your egg and boom you're preggo," Mary said sarcastically. Emma glared at her, as if she was saying _She doesn't need your crap right now Mary, shut up before I skin you._

 _"_ Can I talk to Regina alone please? Mary?"

Mary left the bathroom begrudgingly.

Emma and Regina were stewing in the silence.

"So..." Emma started, shifting around the bathroom. "Are you going to tell Daniel?"

"I don't want to trap him, I don't-I just don't want him to force himself into being with me for the rest of his life because of this-" she pointed at her flat belly, "mistake."

"Who says he's going to be with you forever? And trust me, you are not trapping him. This mistake is as much his as it is yours. He'll probably just do the right thing," Emma rubbed the sides of her head. "He'd better do the right thing or I'll-"

"Emma."

"Sorry. I can't believe the bastard got you pregnant!" She spoke through gritted teeth, anger towards Daniel bubbling up in the back of her throat. "He knew you weren't on birth control, and still he fuc-"

"We used protection both times," Regina said softly, "That's why I said I don't understand how this happened."

Emma took a breath. Her face returning from red to it's normal color.

"My parents will probably want us to get married," Regina muttered. "And you know Daniel, he'll think that that's the only right thing to do. He'll say yes, and he'll resent me forever for forcing him into a life he didn't want." She pursed her lips and smiled gently, remembering what he'd told her about what he wanted to do with his life. "He wanted to travel across the world, do a study of everything he saw. He wanted to be an artist, to paint all that looked pretty."

"So?" Emma raised her eyebrows.

"If we get married-if I tell him about _this_ -he'll be pushed into getting some terrible paying blue collared job. We'd move to some neighborhood-not even a really good one-in the suburbs. He'll be living everything he'd hate. He'd hate the kid, he'd hate me, he'd hate what I'd have done to him. I can't have him hating me for the rest of his life," Regina rambled, pain dripping out of every syllable she uttered.

"But that's only if you're going to keep the kid," Emma said unintentionally (she did that sometimes, accidentally say things that she was thinking to herself. "Are you going to keep the kid?"

Regina swallowed, her throat suddenly too dry for her to speak. "I don't know. I don't know if I can keep the kid."

"Let's say you do," Emma began, "what would that mean for your future? Like what happens after the kid?"

"I wouldn't be able to go to law school, I'd be married to Daniel-whether we want to get married or not-and I'd probably end up working as a store manager or something. If I give the kid up for adoption, they'd have a good life. I'd have a good life."

"And if you get rid of the kid completely?"

"I don't know. I guess everything goes on. Life goes on as I planned," Regina placed her shaking hand over her stomach. There was nothing there yet, no bump, no heartbeat, no life. In another three months there would be, and she'd be too scared to know what to do. Scared shitless. "But I don't think I'd be able to get rid of it...I don't think I'll be able to handle that."

"If you're keeping it-or if you're going to put it up for adoption-then you're gonna have to tell your parents. You're gonna have to tell Daniel," Emma pointed out.

"I know."

"What do you think she'll say?"

"Who? My mother?"

"Your mother. What do you think she'll say?"

"She'll say what a failure her daughter is. Getting pregnant at twenty one, not to mention out of wedlock. Throwing her entire future at Yale away. She'll shift her attention to Lena, pretending that she can raise her like she wanted to raise me," Regina's eyes watered, "I won't be her daughter, I'd be her biggest disappointment. If I'm terribly unfortunate, they'll forget me completely."

"Rough."

"You're very right. Very, very right."

Emma made her way next to her. Plopped herself down onto the linoleum floor, and wrapped an arm around Regina's shoulders. "I'm always here," she comforted. "I'm always going to help you. I'm always going to try and support you as best as I can."

"Thank you," Regina laid her head on Emma's shoulder, the crinkling of Emma's leather jacket filling the gap.

"And if that means that when we get our own place in the city we have a tiny toddler with us, then so be it. You don't have to go home if you don't want to, and you sure as hell don't have to deal with your mother if you don't want to either."

"Really?"

"That's not all, I'll even be there for the birth and everything."

Regina let out a watery laugh. Emma smiled. They sat there until Regina's breathing had calmed and her nose wasn't red anymore.

"When are you going to see him again?"

"Next Friday I think, date night."

"That's fun, I bet you that your date on Friday is going to be the most eventful date you've ever been on."

"You're having too much fun with this," Regina scowled lightheartedly. "I'm having a baby, can you please try to be a little adult-like?"

"I'll try," Emma muttered. "So how're you going to tell him?"

"I don't know."

"How about _Babe, you're going to have a babe._ Or maybe even _You're going to be a daddy, d-"_

 _"_ Don't you dare finish that sentence."

Emma chuckled. And the silence set in once again. Both of them lost in their own thoughts. Emma wondering how many ways to cut a penis off of a body, and how painful each method would be. Regina thinking about how she'd tell her parents. How she'd tell Daniel. How she'd convince herself that this wasn't a nightmare come to life. It wasn't that she didn't want kids either, she did (preferably when she was thirty two and working at a firm somewhere in the city with a husband that chose to be with her, not married out of obligation).

Emma convinced her to leave the bathroom eventually, and kept asking if she was okay. Emma stayed in the apartment that night, sprawled across the floor (with drool slanting out of the corner of her mouth). Regina was quiet when she cried herself to sleep.

-{}-

She had to tell Daniel first. Before she went to the doctor, before she decided if she was keeping the child, before she did anything, she had to tell Daniel. It was going to be hard (and like any reasonable person in this situation, she spent an irrational amount of time planning the entire conversation). His primary reaction would be surprise ( _How? I was wearing a condom both times? I just-I don't understand?_ The she'd say, _I don't know either, but it happened)._ Then came validity ( _Are you sure-like one hundred percent sure-that the baby is mine?_ And she'd scoff, as if she was offended and scowl out, _Of course I'm sure you jerk. I haven't slept with anyone else but you this entire year!._ Denial was the third stage ( _Are you sure you're pregnant? Maybe it's like a false positive)._ She shake her head an say as quiet as she could, _I took the test five times. Peed on five sticks. Daniel, I'm pregnant, I'm sure I'm pregnant._

He'd frustratedly throw his napkin down, ask to be excused, make his way to the bathroom to internally combust (or throw a fit of rage), and then come back out to talk about what to do next. Or he'd walk out of the restaurant, call to apologize three (maybe four) days later, and then talk about what to do next. Thank god (or whoever) that Daniel was the kind of guy that would talk about what to do next.

And tonight would be the night that she would either ruin his life or ruin his life.

He showed up fancy. Dress pants, dress shirt, dress shoes, and a tie (a tie that would make any businessman cry). Flowers in his hands, fresh this time (roses-the white ones that Regina loved so much), and his hair neatly gelled back. He glanced down at her (she was in her famous blue dress-the one that made her look like a goddess sent from hell) and nodded while he muttered, _Hot, you're really hot._ She laughed softly and reached for her purse, grabbing it as he pulled her excitedly through the door. There was a silent fluttering in the pit of her belly (and unconsciously she had placed her hand flat against the lower part of her stomach-this was going to be so difficult-and dropped it only seconds after).

They ended up going to the restaurant that he'd meant to take her to on their very first date (dressed entirely too fancy for this kind of place, it was more semi-formal than formal). But that didn't stop Daniel, he ordered the finest wine (before he realized that it was way to expensive for his budget and decided on something more au pair with their income), and urged Regina to try the lobster (which she also decided was way to much and settled on the chicken parmesan instead). He'd gone out of his way to make this special for them, and Regina appreciated that (although it only made the sick feeling stronger, and made her feel guiltier-even though she knew that the baby wasn't her fault).

"So," she sighed, smiling stupidly as the candle (yes, a candle-Daniel was pushing the line between mushy and romantic very far) cast a faint reddish glow against her skin. "Why is everything so...Audrey Hepburn?"

"I needed to tell you something," He grinned lopsidedly, which made her smile falter for a second (but she fixed that and less than a second later, she was happy again-apply that term loosely). "But I'm not going to tell you now."

"So you have more planned for the evening? Gee Daniel, all of this to tell me that you slept with my mother?" She joked, raising her eyebrows as if she was completely serious.

"Am I that transparent?"

"Apparently so, Mr. Stabelman."

"You wound me Ms. Mills."

The evening went on. Both of them laughing at each other's witty remarks. Eating, drinking (Regina didn't take a single sip of the wine), enjoying the date. The sinking feeling was as present as ever in the depths of Regina's thoughts, but even she could push that aside to enjoy whatever Daniel had planned for them. And did Daniel have something big planned. Breadsticks and overpriced pasta aside, he'd rented out one of those horse ridden carriages, complete with roses strung across the sides (and she so desperately tried not wto laugh at the cheesiness of it all; she failed). Daniel had grumbled about how she couldn't appreciate the effort her was going through (not to mention his sacrifice of new paints for the entirety of the following month) and how she wouldn't understand romance if it hit her square in her face.

But she'd apologized and allowed him to pull her up onto the carriage (which he so gracefully did, and she so gracefully thanked him). The driver was chuckling, he said something about how he remembered the very first moment he'd seen his wife and how he'd taken her on a date much similar (dinner and carriages the same). Daniel was very intent on listening to the story, smiling and asking questions. Regina however, was immersed in the sounds of the horses' hooves clacking against the cement. How when they passed a streetlamp it would hit the pale skin on Daniel's face at a perfect angle, and then her face, and then they would move back into the glow New York had always cast. How each building was a different color, or a different size, or how each building was meant for different things. She reveled in it. So much, in fact, that she didn't hear what Daniel had said.

"What?"

"We're here."

She'd been taken from her trance. Central park. She lifted herself off of her seat and stepped onto the concrete of the sidewalk as Daniel paid the guy. She took small steps forward, enjoying the mildly chilly air (courtesy of springtime). Her hand went to her lower stomach, lingering their as she imagined walking down the path with her hand curling over the fingers of a daughter (maybe a son, but she'd always wanted a baby girl). Her eyes would be Daniel's dark blue, her hair would Regina's almost-raven shade, she'd have the cutest little smile in the whole world. She could see the two of them, she would be laughing about something her baby girl would say, Daniel would be rushing to keep up-holding two cones of ice-cream. They'd be happy. But they'd be older, she wouldn't have had her baby at the age of twenty one, he'd have seen Europe and come back home.

"Is the chicken not treating you well?" Daniel asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

Regina stopped thinking about their-the-child, let her hand fall back to her side, and answered, "No, it's just something I do sometimes." She knew he didn't believe her, but he shrugged it off anyway and took her hand in his, their arms swinging in unison as they wandered the park. "So why are we back here?" Regina brought up, attempting to break the (more tense than comfortable) silence. He didn't say anything and pulled her to the bench.

"I didn't mean for him to stop here, I was going to take you back to your apartment but I didn't have enough money to get you there," he said, lacing his fingers through her's. "So I brought you here, so I could pretend to have intentionally wanted to take you on a romantic walk in the park."

"Good plan," she sniggered, "I can really see you getting lucky tonight."

"That was sarcasm wasn't it?"

"It was."

Daniel pouted, mimicking an offended man.

"So will you tell me why you did this tonight? Why it was semi-fancy and all candlelit?" She asked finally, pursing her lips to a thin line as a particularly cold breeze brushed by them.

"I come from a terrible line of men."

"You do? And that answers anything?"

"No, what I meant was that my father, my grandfather, and my grandfather's father were terrible at saying important things."

"That clears up nothing Daniel," she uttered, "Is this your attempt at breaking up with me?"

"God no!" He shouted a second later, making Regina happy that he didn't even hesitate to gather his thought. "My father told my mother he loved her after they got arrested for drinking underage-while he was puking in the toilet."

"Daniel..."

"Just listen." He cleared his throat. "It wasn't the ideal moment, and he could never get over that. My grandfather told my grandmother he loved her for the first time when they were in church-in a youth meeting about saving themselves for marriage. So I wanted it to be different, I wanted me to be different. That's why everything is so dolled up, I really wanted everything to be perfect when I told you I loved you for the first time."

There was a lump in Regina's throat, a pang in her heart. _Everything isn't perfect, Daniel. I'm pregnant,_ she wanted to say. _You wasted your time. I'm going to ruin your life anyway (_ and some dark part of her whispered, _just like you ruined mine)._ But instead (and she wasn't even sure if she meant those words):

"I love you to Daniel."

-{}-

When Regina was four she was subjected to her very first house party. Her mother had dressed her up in a frilly, pink dress that itched in places no four year old should know about. Their were about thirty families there (and everyone could fit with space left over for a small town), and she remembered having to recite the alphabet to each and every one of them (also having to count all the way up to twenty). That was the first of many uncomfortable dresses, snobby children, and even snobbier parents (the perils of growing up wealthy). Needless to say, she wasn't the happiest coming back to the large doors that once confined her to a life she never wanted to have. But this was necessary, she needed to tell her parents (something that dawned upon her when she realized if she kept this child she wouldn't go to Yale).

There was no doorbell on the doorsill (her parent's never bothered to get one, completely okay with the solid silver ring hanging from the middle of the wood). Regina had reached and knocked on their door, a bottle of wine in her hands (fairly expensive, way out of her budget), and a strained smile on her face. It took half a knock for her mother to open the door (her mother always knew when she was within three miles of the house's vicinity) and greet her with the coldest expression on her face.

"You didn't call."

Regina expected this much from her-not that she could expect anything else-and said, "Yes, I know, mother." It was best to not correct her mother, or even talk back. All of her experiences with doing so were bad, often ending with no dinner or no phone or a lashing of the tongue that would make even the cruelest of people recoil with terror and fear. So Regina was left standing there (she knew her mother wanted an explanation and Regina would just hate to give her one-at least not when she was waiting on the front porch).

"Well then, come on in," Cora opened the door a bit more, granting Regina entrance into the house. "It's not like I can stop you."

Regina gritted her teeth, annoyance already threatening to spill over. But she restrained from lashing out, so as calmly as she could, she said, "Well I just love you so much mother, I couldn't help myself from being near you."

Regina was pleased to hear the harrumph that escaped from her mother's lips, and she softly snickered under her breath. She hung her jacket on the coat rack next to the door, and followed her mother into the living room, still amused with the reaction she spurred out of her mother.

"Would you like tea?" Her mother chirped, entirely too prim and proper. "I've got sweetened, unsweetened, ice, and peach-mango."

"If I said no you would shove it down my throat anyways," Regina declined (obviously). "Besides, caffeine hasn't become me these days."

"Would you like some wine then?"

"Mother it is ten AM," she scoffed, trying to hide the real reason she didn't want a drink. "It's hardly appropriate to drink at this hour."

"Why are you here Regina?" Her mother deadpanned, not a trace of affection in her tone, "Is it money? Do you want money?"

This was what irked her to her end. Regina was never once asked if everything was alright back in New York, never once asked if she was doing well, or even how her education was going. It was always money ( _Do you need money? Are you earning enough money?_ ). Her jaw tightened and she replied, "I'm not here for your money."

"Then what? I hardly believe that you just dropped by for a chat."

She wasn't sure how she would say it. Simply ( _Mom, I'm pregnant)._ Or overtly ( _Mom, I don't want to go to Yale)._ Both would trigger a heavy reaction, her mother would probably faint or turn beet red as an effect of disappointment (maybe even rage). Her lips were glued to each other in that one second before she said anything, her tongue plastered to the top of her mouth. "Mom, I don't want to-Mom, I'm-I..."

"You never call me mom."

"Mom, I-uh-I'm pregnant."

Thick silence enveloped the two of them.

Cora chuckled (even that disdainfully ladylike and proper), "Well, I have to say. This is your best attempt at rebellion. Lord knows why you're doing it, but alright, you have my attention."

She knew that her mother couldn't differentiate between sarcasm and honesty, but at a time like this she wished she were just being sarcastic.

"No mother, I actually am pregnant."

"No one believes that Regina, you don't either. Just tell me what you want."

"I want to you to listen to me, for one. And two, I am pregnant."

"Yes I'm sure you're carrying child. Now what is it? Quickly, I have tea with the ladies in fifteen minutes and unless you want to join..."

"Mother."

"Yes, Regina?"

"I don't know why, I don't know how, but I have taken multiple tests. All I have to do is go see a real doctor, and right now I'm pretty confident that I am very, very pregnant," her voice was deathly, her eyes significantly darker (most likely die to her immense frustration), and her lips red from constant biting. "I'm sorry."

"Yo-You're really-" Her mother was furious, disgusted too. Shock drowned out all other sane thoughts in her mind. "You're not even in a committed relationship."

It began to sound like her mother was going through denial.

"Please tell me this isn't a one-night thing..."

"No. Daniel. I wante-"

"So you are pregnant?"

Regina nodded. Fear creeping up the back of her neck.

"Get out."

"But mother I haven't finishe-"

"Get. Out."

"Moth-"

"Now."

The wood creaked when she stepped towards the door. Her purse was clutched tightly in her hands, her knuckles white. There was a lump lodged in the back of her throat, tears held at bay. She didn't know if it was because of the hormones (she wasn't even sure if there were hormones yet), or because when she imagined leaving her mother, it was always Regina who stormed out. It was always her decision to end relations with her mother. _At least this way,_ she thought, _I won't have to deal with her._ And Regina knew, she knew too well, that this was one of the best ways her mother could react. This was a favorable outcome. She should've been relieved ( _Then why does it feel like I've just been disowned?,_ she couldn't stop thinking).

She was unaware when her first tear fell.

She felt the wetness on her cheeks only after she was seated in her ratty old car. Her mother hadn't even said goodbye.

It is then she remembered, that she would have to do this alone. Without her mother (whom she imagined would cease to be a part of her life after she'd raised her children to the pre-teen age).

And she hadn't even told Daniel yet.

-{}-

"She took it badly didn't she?" Emma asked, tossing the dirty clothes on her bed into her hamper. Her dorm is small, and her roommate is just as messy as she is (which meant the small dorm looked smaller because of all the clutter). "Sorry for the mess."

Regina had shown up at Emma's door with red eyes and a screw up of a life only a few minutes ago. Her first words being, _I think I'm no longer a Mills._ She also hadn't noticed Emma's roommate sitting on her lumpy futon, staring at the strange woman (in this situation, Regina) at the entry. Confused, she was pushed out of the cramped room and into the hallway (which secretly pleased Emma to the fullest; Emma hated the bitch).

"She disowned me Emma," Regina's voice was scratchy, her throat dry, when she hurled herself into Emma's mattress. "I'm sure that I'm no longer a Mills."

"This isn't the worst part," Emma tried to console, "You still have not told Daniel, and he's going to be the father of that child."

"If I keep it."

"If you keep it," Emma repeated as she took a seat on the edge of the bed, absently playing with the fraying ends of her blanket. "And you still have to decide if you want to keep it."

"I have to decide too many things."

"You have to go to the doctor first though, make sure the little cancer ball is alright."

"Did you just call the kid a cancer ball?"

"Yes, but that isn't the point. You need prenatal vitamins, you need to know how far along you are, and you need to know the professional opinion of a doctor before you decide whether or not you want to...do the thing."

"And how exactly am I going to do this? Who am I going to ask?"

"Google. And you do this with my help and with Daniel's help," Emma sighed, curling her fingers around Regina's cold palm. "I'm serious. You're not alone through this. You're not alone after we graduate either."

"Thank you."

Regina was sitting in silence, Emma was biting her lip, and the clock's ticking sounded like a time bomb. Emma handed her the phone, "You'e already been disowned. What's the worse that could happen?"

-{}-

Daniel was driving to work when he got a call from Regina. He was in his janitor's uniform (so he wouldn't have to change at the museum-the locker rooms are too eerie), a badge stuck over his breast pocket, and a loose belt cinching at his waist. He was eating a protein bar, chewing with his mouth open because no one cared about his lack of manners when he was alone in his car. There was a small stain on his collar (which he didn't care for, it was only marinara sauce). It was like any other drive to work. It was necessary, not particularly boring, not particularly interesting. It was a normality in his life. It meant getting a meatball sub at the vendor a few streets down, it meant wearing a badge even though the pin poked at him, it meant cleaning the floors and talking to Seth, the security guard, it meant sense and comfort and it meant he could pay his rent on time.

Daniel was driving to work on a Wednesday evening. It was six twenty-two (he had to be at work at six thirty). There was still a sliver of sun left outside, and the traffic had slowed down a bit. There were people walking the streets like they did every day. There was the homeless man that he'd always toss an extra five on his way in, the musician who he always joked around with on his breaks. He could promise anyone that they would be there waiting for him.

He got the call at six twenty-four.

He got in a car accident at six twenty-seven. A bus ran into him.

Seth didn't get to see him that night, he didn't get to tell Daniel about how his baby girl took her first steps today, or how his wife made him breakfast in bed (it was burnt toast and nearly raw eggs, but it was the thought that counts), or how he found a dollar on the subway. Larry didn't get to hand him his meatball sub, full with extra sauce and extra meatballs, and extra bread. Met, the crazy homeless guy, didn't get dinner that night, nor did he get to give Daniel very, very bad advice. The musician was bored to death, his electric guitar collecting birds.

Daniel was driving to work on a Wednesday evening when he got a call from Regina. His uniform stained with something that wasn't marinara sauce.

-{}-

Regina was at a hospital Thursday morning.


	4. Chapter 4: She Named The Baby Henry

She named the baby Henry.

She'd decided, when the the doctors had placed the kid in her arms (covered in blood and all), that this was the last piece of Daniel she had. This baby was the last memory of Daniel, and she was going to keep it. She was going to keep him and love him and do everything she possibly could to keep him happy. She didn't, however, know if she was doing this for herself or for her baby.

Her baby.

Her. Baby.

She was scared to say it out loud, but as the first cry erupted from the newborn's mouth, she no longer was. And she cradled him closer to her chest. Closer to her beating heart, to her frail ribs, to the dripping sweat and tears. He immediately silenced, his small fists curled over her arm. Regina was looking down on him when Emma burst into the room (balloons and stuffed toys overflowing).

A few hours later, when her son is bathed and asleep, Emma was carrying him. "He's a cute baby."

"He damn well be. I did not go through fourteen hours of labor to push an ugly baby out of me," Regina drawled, exhaustion taking over her entirely.

"Your motherly instinct is really kicking in," Emma retorted, a small snort escaping from her tired face. "Good thing you're not technically his mother."

Regina doesn't bother to correct her.

Emma looked down onto sleeping Henry. Quietly, "What're you going to do," She whispered once again, "What _are_ you going to do?"

"You said it twice." Regina raised her eyebrows. "Why'd you have to say it twice?"

"Dramatic effect. Guess it didn't work."

"It never works Emma," she grinned, the small scar on her upper lip curving.

"Seriously, what are you going to do? The foster family is waiting outside. Do you want to name him or..."

"Tell them to go home. Tell the family to go home."

Emma was shocked, her mouth hung agape and she only managed to stammer out a _yes_ before walking out of the room-leaving the baby in Regina's arms. He nuzzled into the blanket as much a he could without waking, a small gurgle escaping from his tiny lips. She was alone with the-her-child. He did not feel uncomfortable in her hands (why would he, she'd always loved kids). He was at peace, and she supposed she was too.

This was for Daniel.

The baby was for Daniel.

She was crying when Emma walked back into her room. Tears were slipping down her cheeks, no violent sobbing, just small streaks of water.

"I'm naming him Henry," Regina said.

"Look. Hon. I support you and all, but..." Emma hesitated, trepidation creeping up the back of her neck, "Are you sure you're...ready? Are you sure you can handle it? Handle Henry?"

"You're doubting me."

"No. I'm not-it's just...you have to understand. This is a big deal. Who're you doing this for?"

Regina has known Emma for a long time. Emma has known Regina for a long time. This meant that every damn insecurity Regina had, Emma can see. Every fucking insecurity.

Regina refused to answer. Her lips tight, and anger flooding her thoughts. "You think I can't do this."

"Don't put words in my mouth. You know that's not what I said."

Regina doesn't notice the ticking veins in her neck. The sizzling in her blood. The way Emma's hand's curled into tight fists. Both of them are angry. Angry at each other. Angry for each other.

"I know what you said. It's not that. It's what you implied. It's what your fucking eyes say, Emma."

"I DIDN'T IMPLY ANYTHING!"

"You did! It's in your stance. Your arms are fucking crossed. Your face is fucking red, and your eyes-your eyes tell me everything."

"You're obviously not reading me right then!"

"Just stop! I don't need this fight! I don't need you!"

"You don't mean that."

"I know what I mean. I've always known what I meant."

"You know you can't do this on your own."

"You're wrong. This time you're fucking wrong."

"We both know that what you said isn't true. You need me more than you'd like to admit."

"Just shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up."

"Don't be a bitch Regina. It doesn't suit you."

"It sure as hell suits you!"

"Fine then, don't admit it. Don't admit that you have no place to go. That your own mother-the one who did unspeakable things to you-will never take you in. That the house you grew up in is no longer yours. Don't admit that Henry and I are the last parts of what's left of your goddamn pathetic family. Don't admit it. What are you going to do Regina? Where are you going to go?"

"I'll find something."

"YOU WON'T!"

"You don't know that," Regina's voice haltered. She was crying again (she just gave birth, her feelings were all over the place-the fight wasn't helping). "You don't know-" Crack. "You can't know."

"Regina...no, honey don't cry," Emma rushed over to her side.

Henry's wails interrupted them. Regina silently weeping alongside. She cradled him to her chest, to the sound of her beating hear, hugging over him as if her were something so fragile that it couldn't even be exposed to the air. Emma gently rubs Regina's back (an attempt to sooth as well as apologize for the things she said).

"I'm sorry."

Regina is shaking, small tremors lightly tracing her figure.

"I didn't mean any of it."

(But Emma did mean a lot of it.)

(Sadly, Regina knew that she did.)

 **A.N.** Sorry this chapter is so short, it was longer, but I cut it here so the story would have a better flow. School just started and I have a load of work, I'll still try to update often. Sorry again guys, and don't hesitate to tell me if I made any spelling or grammar errors.


	5. Chapter 5: Fifteen Years

Today is Henry's fourteenth birthday.

Regina has been a mother for fourteen years now(fourteen godforsaken years), and she still doesn't know if it was worth it. Of course, Emma was there in the beginning. She used to be of more help to Regina than anything else or anyone else (she honestly doesn't know what would've happened without Emma). She was almost Henry's second mother. But then a few years back (when Henry was ten) she'd gotten herself married and moved to Brooklyn. Needless to say, she was still there for the important parts. Birthdays, school plays, soccer games (not only that, she was with them almost every other weekend).

Today is Henry's fourteenth birthday.

There is a cake set on the table. It's covered in a layer of white icing at least half-an-inch thick. The words 'Happy Birthday Henry" are inscribed with reds, blues, and yellows. Exactly five party hats are stacked next to the platter. Banners hang from the walls, draping at an arc (they also read 'Happy Birthday Henry' with the same rainbow colors). Two boxes reside at the foot of the table, neatly wrapped in glossy paper. The smell of lasagna waifs from the oven (Henry's favorite-her grandmother's recipe). Everything is as it should be, Emma and Killian (her husband) are on the sofa watching their TV show and Regina is sitting with them-silently going through her emails to make sure she hasn't missed anything important from work. She is an elementary school principal. She'd started as a substitute teacher (after all there's only so much you can do with a degree in literature, so she'd gone ahead and got her teacher's license as well), moving onto the position of an eighth grade english teacher, and then only recently (two years back) she'd been promoted to the principal of her very own school. She didn't make an awful lot, but she made enough to keep the both of them warm and clothed and fed. She was doing okay as a mother, and today Henry is fourteen years old.

He is proof of her success.

She is proud of what she's done. She's proud of what she's accomplished. She's proud that she's here, party hats on the table and the cake right next to it, for her son's fourteenth birthday.

"Henry is fourteen." Emma says bluntly (although Regina knows Emma is saying it with remembrance, she can't help but laugh at the obviousness of the statement).

"You always really were good at stating the obvious," Regina is happy. She is happy these days. Although, she is especially happy today. "But yes. He is fourteen isn't he? My little prince?"

Regina remembers when he'd first insisted her on calling him that. He was five, his preschool teacher had been reading them fairy tales, and one he'd come home yelling, _I want to be a prince too._ He didn't quiet down until Regina had grabbed him and sat him down on her lap, _Be quiet my little prince and I'll get you some ice cream._ Henry had agreed as quickly as he could, and before long, they were both licking at soft serve vanilla in chocolate coated waffle cones.

"Seems like just yesterday the kid was shoving legos up his nose."

And it had. The years had flown. The two of them were so busy (with work, with Henry, with anything really) that they forgot to slow down every once in a while. They'd forgotten to take pictures of baby Henry eating cake for his very first birthday. They'd forgotten to take a video his first day of first grade. They'd forgotten so many things. It was alright though. The two of them loved Henry enough to last him two lifetimes and a half. And even if they'd forgotten these things, the small trivial things, they'd never have dared to forget what their little prince meant to them. They had everything important-everything worth having. Henry's first pair of shoes. Old onesies. Report cards.

"Seems like just yesterday I was hoping I wasn't having a child."

But Regina doesn't regret what she chose to do. She still doesn't fully know why she chose to do what she did, but never in a thousand years will she ever regret it.

The doorbell rings, pushing Regina out of her thoughts. She walks to the front door, ready to yell surprise (this was meant to be a surprise party), and instead comes face to face with her mother.

(Yes, her mother.)

(It was definitely her mother.)

(Astonishingly enough.)

"Mother," She is clipped. Her tone still holding years of betrayal and manipulation, abuse and criticisms. Bitterness creeps from the back of her mind to the fronts of her teeth. Her tongue is acidic, her words can burn through metal. She licks her lips. "It's nice to see you."

Two years after Henry had been born, Regina had gathered the nerve to send a Christmas card to her parents' house. It was a picture of her, baby Henry, and Emma in cheesy reindeer sweaters (a miracle of an item found in a Goodwill shop) with 'Merry Christmas!' written across the top in a tacky font. She just wanted to prove that she was perfectly fine without her mother, better off even, and instead got a call. _Regina, you never told me you had a son,_ her mother had had the gall to say. _You never asked me,_ she'd replied, _you haven't called me in two years._ Her mother, being the cold hearted bitch she was, had said, _Circumstances were different; it was a matter of the family name, family understand right? And what now,_ Regina had asked, _What do you tell people now?_ Her mother had answered, _We don't have to talk about you-hell, we don't talk to you, I just want to see my grandson._

"You too dear," Her mother is no different. "I see you've done well for my grandson."

"My son," Regina corrects. "Henry is my son. Not your grandson."

"Your son. Of course," Her mother nods. It's almost condescending. "For him to be my grandson, I'd have to actually consider you my daughter."

Regina grits her teeth, frustration clawing at the tip of her tongue. She turns briefly, only to find Emma staring pleadingly ( _Please don't do this, not today,_ she is saying). Regina takes in a breath ( _I know; today is for Henry)._

"Gifts are placed near the foot of the table," is all she says before making her way into the living room.

Killian mutters _Regina, your mother is an arse,_ under his breath. She snorts and Emma holds back an eye roll. _I know,_ Regina doesn't bother to whisper. When her mother takes a seat on one of the chairs, Regina's comfort seems to vanish. She's restraining words and angry glares. Killian's shuffling distracts her, pulling her attention from her mother to the floor.

Once again, the doorbell rings. This time Regina is sure that it is her son. Or the neighbors wanting to wish Henry a happy birthday. She lifts herself off of the sofa and heads to the door. A smile is plastered to her face, a ' _surprise'_ waiting on the edge of her tongue. She hopes Henry doesn't notice that the smile is forced (she's honestly trying her best). She smoothes the folds in her skirt, tugs at her blouse, and reaches for the brass doorknob. She twists and opens.

Her smile vanishes.

"I promise, mom, I'm not doing drugs."

-{}-

The police officer at the door is frustrated, to say the least. He probably has better things to do than to bring a fourteen year old "druggie" back to his house. They weren't manhandling him, he just has his wrists in cuffs. He doesn't look hurt, or like he fought back.

Henry is more worried about what his mother will think when she sees him like this.

"I promise mom, I'm not doing drugs."

His mother, on the other hand, is not paying attention to him but to the man next to him (not the police officer, the man who thought he saw Henry doing drugs). His mother pales even more. _Does she know this guy?_

"Ma'am, your son has been accu-" one of the police officers starts to speak, but Henry interrupts.

"I was just giving the homeless guy one of the brownies from my lunch," Henry explains as her tries to tug his arm free from the officer's grasp. "I really, really wasn't doing-or selling-any drugs, mom."

His mother clears her throat, and draws her attention back to the police officer at her doorstep. "Officers, I would really appreciate it if instead of cuffing him without proper reason, you explain to me how exactly he got himself into this situation."

"Ma'am-" The officer starts again.

"Jim, is it?" Regina looks at the name tag on his right breast pocket, "Why don't you un-cuff my son, come on inside, and-sorry to repeat this-explain to me how you thought my son was doing-"

"We thought he was selling drugs," Jim interrupts, his hands slipping to the ring of keys he has attached to his belt loop.

"Yes," Regina grits her teeth, "selling drugs, I mean."

The man is staring at Henry's mother.

Henry doesn't like it. Henry doesn't like the man. He didn't like him when he called the police on him and he doesn't like him now.

The man swallows, his Adam's apple bobs up and down slowly. He looks like his mouth is glued shut. He grabs the officers arm, and says something under his breath. Henry can barely make out what he's saying ( _Sorry, officer. I must've made a mistake._ The man slips a twenty dollar bill into the cop's hand and continues, _For all your troubles.),_ but as soon as he's done, Henry is out of handcuffs and rubbing at his inner wrists. It is then (because Henry was too busy worrying that his mother might slit his jugular, to notice anything else) that he sees all the decorations, the cake, the party hats set on the table. He sees Emma and Killian, and begrudgingly (he hates his grandmother, mostly because of what she does to his mom) he also notices Cora. They're all sitting on his couch, except his grandmother, who is sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room.

He looks at his mother, and she's too busy staring at the man (it's creepy, but he ignores it). He walks past her, straight to the open spot next to Emma. They're in the middle of a conversation, and Henry can't help but to listen.

"I cannot believe it." She's saying, looking at Killian with wide eyes. Hands playing with the little fray on the edge of her sleeve (a small thing she does when she's nervous, excited, any strong emotion really).

"Is that him, love?" He asks, "The one in all those goddamn stories?"

"Who? Who is he?" Henry intrudes, "Why is she staring at him weirdly?"

Emma just seems to notice Henry sitting next to her, and tells him as he leans against the back pillows, "He's your mother's person."

"My mom's person?" Henry's eyebrows slope up, and he says, "What the hell does that mean?"

"Things have happened. Stuff has been said. They're not friends. They used to be though. Helluva pair. Especially the last few months."

"Still do not know what the hell you meant."

"Stop saying hell," Emma chides lightly, and then explains, "I dunno. They're just kind of there. They're each others' person."

Henry looks back up to his mother. The soft sounds of Cora tsk-ing in disapproval.

The man is hugging his mother, tightly almost.

And she is hugging him back.

-{}-

She barely hears what the police are saying to her after she's done confronting them. She sees her son, murmurs of apology are slipping between the crevices of his lips. Handcuffs are around his wrists. At first she is angry, then surprised ( _Henry would never do this,_ she reasons, _you've raised him better_ ). Then it's the worry that follows (she's worried about what her mother would say, _God, Regina. Your son came to your own door in handcuffs_ ). And then, the very last thing that hits her, it's the remembrance. Bitter regrets come to mind, things she wishes she never said. Things she wishes she'd never done.

But it's Robin. And things with Robin were always bittersweet.

It then comes to attention, it's where Robin is that is making her clench her fists. He's no longer an idea ( and this pisses her off).

(He was always so much better as an idea than as a person.)

Robin is standing right next to them.

Robin is standing next to the officer.

Robin is standing at her doorstep.

Robin is no less than two feet away from her.

Her regrets are no less than two feet away from her.

His face is older. His eyes are tired. His arms are slumped to his sides, and a little sparkle from the buttons of his coat reflected in the luster of the door knob. His hair is neater (shorter than when she last saw him), he has scruff along his jaw. His eyes are still blue, and when he's whispering to the officer, she can still hear his familiar accent (ah yes, the one that made all the girl swoon and all the boys too).

He is Robin.

So wholly and utterly Robin, it takes her a second to realize that it's not fifteen years ago, when she still hated him with the pits of her stomach (if she ever really did hate him at all). It takes her a second to realize that he's not twenty-two anymore, that she's not twenty-one, and that they've both grown up and have probably forgotten the meaning of fun and irresponsibility. It takes her a second to realize it's been fifteen years since they've last spoken ( _I don't know,_ those were his last words to her, _I just don't know anymore)._

(The last thing, unfortunately, she thinks is whether or not he remembers.)

(She knows he does.)

(What exactly was she hoping for?)

(That he would forget what she said to him? That he would forget what he said to her.)

 _Click._

Her eyes on her son for a second. He's rubbing his free wrists, and the officer is walking away (grumbling, _Stupid civilians)._ Henry passes her, and in a moment he's sandwiched between Emma and Killian (who both seem to be shocked as well, and a smirk splaying itself across Emma's lips). But she cannot focus on them. She can only see the small movements of Robin's fingers, the nervous twitches and the rapid blinks and the shoe tapping. His breathing is slowing to a shaky line.

And then he is hugging her.

And she is hugging him back.

She feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off of her shoulders.

(Even with Robin putting most of his weight over her.)

"Regina."

It's muted. Muted in a sense that doesn't make his voice quiet but in a sense that everything behind it has been stopped. All the anger, the frustration, the disapproval, all of it has been blocked. It's just her name, and nothing more than her name (at least right now). There is no emotion.

"Robin."

She wishes what she said was just as light. She can tell that he knows it too because he steps away soon and he smiles. It's a shell of a smile and Regina is angry at herself because her smile is full. Her smile is a sea. Her smile is a universe in itself and Robin is looking at her with nothing. Nothing but a shell of a smile and her name full of nothing.

Robin is looking at her with nothing, and it hurts.

She knows she has no right to feel hurt, so she wipes any resemblance of what she's feeling of off of her face. And instead, she smiles again. This time it is hollow. As hollow as his smile and as empty as her name.

"You're still in New York?" He asks.

 _I've never left. I've been here for the last fifteen years. Where have you been? Why the fuck are you still here?_ She wants to say. She want to grab him by the collar and yell in his face. Punch his throat in for the way he left things. She wants to finish what they started fifteen years ago (goddammit, everything seems to have fallen apart that goddamn night). "Yeah. I've never left."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." she says, "You?"

"I went to the cooking school, and I came back. I liked it here."

"The blue one?"

"Le Cordon Bleu, you mean?"

"Yeah the blue one."

"I didn't actually."

"Oh."

"And Henry?"

"He's my son."

"I thought so," he grins (he doesn't know which cell in his brain told him to grin-but he wishes he hadn't as soon as he has), then adds,"I reported your son to the police."

"Yes. Yes, you did report my son to the police."

"I'm sorry about that."

"You should be."

"Well, I am."

"I'm aware."

"It was nice seeing you." He offers. "I-I, uh, really wished-"

"Wishful thinking is for ignoramuses," she intrudes, "You said that."

"Fifteen years ago. I said that fifteen years ago."

"A lot happened fifteen years ago, Robin," she sighs and gestures for him to come in ( _He can't possibly be that bad,_ she thinks and then replaces the 'he' with 'it'-because she's talking about the situation, not him), "I'd really just like to move on."

"Yeah, okay." He steps inside. (It feels strange when he walks in. A little panic in her pulse.)

"Alright."

Their conversation has come to a lull. It's more like the both of them are to stubborn to apologize and move on, but she doesn't care. In fact, she's nothing but relieved when Emma approaches Robin. She leaves them to talk (to be honest, they don't have much to talk about, but Emma sees Regina's distress and takes it as a signal to steer Robin away from her).

As soon as she's in the living room, she's slapped with her mother's disapproving look. She knows she doesn't have the patience to deal with this, so she mouths the word _out._ Her mother is gone in two minutes, nothing but her gift proves her presence. Killian gets up to go introduce himself, and Henry...Henry is next to Regina with his big pleading eyes, asking, "Who was that guy?"

"Robin."

"Ex-boyfriend?"

"I think that's hardly any of your business," she scoffs at his cheekiness. "But no."

"Then who is he?"

"Robin."

"No. I mean, who is he to you?"

"I don't know, Henry." She uses his words. "I just don't know."

"Must be awkward," Henry, although he doesn't like the man-Robin, he decides that he enjoys seeing his mother like this. "I'm going to ask him to stay for cake."

-{}-

Robin, as awkward as the situation may be, stays for a single piece of cake. Then another. Then a glass of wine, and the best goddamn pizza in New York. He stays until even Henry is off of his sugar rush, until Emma and Killian leave, and until even he is sure that he's laughed enough to deepen his dimples. He stays long enough to know that Regina-while she may not have forgiven him, and he may not have forgiven her-wants him here.

It is easy to sit there and eat cake and laugh at bad movies.

It is easy to sit there and talk and make cheesy jokes.

It is easy to be there. Easy to just be next to Regina.

It reminds him of fifteen years ago. When he used to wait for Mary to come home. They'd be on the couch watching terrible movies and laughing and spilling popcorn. This was pre-Daniel of course, because when Daniel had come along, it was the three of them laughing and spilling and watching god-awful films. And it was with the three of them that Robin's memories were filled.

He still doesn't know why he said what he said that day.

But he is there, after fifteen years, and he is sitting next to Regina.

And eventually, because even fourteen year olds need sleep, Henry leaves to go sleep. It is suddenly difficult (he doesn't know why, but god does he want to know). The air is thick and he feels as if he must leave.

"I should go."

"You should go."

They say it at the same time.

And they both chuckle softly before Regina continues, "It's pretty late."

"I know," Robin gets off the couch, and stretches his arms, "I don't think it's safe for me to go out. You know, being it this late and all."

"Yeah," She laughs a little, "You should really go."

"Yeah," He sighs, "And hey, I'm really sorry-"

"Don't worry. It happened, like, fifteen years ago."

And so dreadfully, as if the seconds were unbearable and the bones in his fingers were more interesting than anything, he says, "I was sorry for staying this long. Not for...that."

(Because he isn't. He needs her to know that he isn't sorry, and he will never be sorry for what he said fifteen years ago.)

"Oh."

Regina wishes she could be embarrassed, but all her tongue holds is, _Why aren't you sorry for that. Will you ever be sorry for that?_

"Why aren't you sorry for that?"

"Why aren't you?"

(Robin already knows she has nothing to be sorry for.)

-{}-

Robin is walking home. It hasn't been long, not really more than a minute or two, and he's pretty sure that he's still close to her apartment.

It is dark outsides, painfully so, and it is then-on his walk home-when he realizes he knows nothing of what happened to Regina after college. He knows about her son. About Daniel. But nothing about what she went through.

It is also then he realizes that she knows nothing about him. She doesn't know that he married Marian. She doesn't know about his three year old boy. She doesn't know about his restaurant, his interests, his hobbies, and now he feels as if she should feel just as guilty he is.

He doesn't realize it when he's running back to her apartment.

He doesn't realize it when he's buzzing her doorbell.

He doesn't realize it when she won't let him inside.

He doesn't realize it when he outside her window.

Yelling.

This time, he makes sure her name isn't empty. That he isn't hollow when he is saying this. That his heart is beating and he is awake and conscious. His blood is alive. His breaths heavy and his chest pulling him down. He knows what he is doing. Knows what he is saying.

"I won't ever be sorry for having loved you Regina Mills."

-{}-

She crouched against the wall next to her window.

"But I need you to be sorry."

 **Hey guys. I'm back. I've been really busy w/ school and all. So, what do you think happened fifteen years ago? Tell me in the comments/reviews.**


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